Wedding Bell Blues
by musicprincess1990
Summary: UNDER CONSTRUCTION! MASS EDITING AHEAD! PROCEED WITH CAUTION! "I, Rose Weasley, am bound by my desire to please everyone. Except myself. And now, what do I have to show for it? An arranged marriage, currently being orchestrated by parents, and the parents of my future husband: Scorpius Malfoy." Please read & review!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Jo Rowling is queen. Okay, not really, but in the literary world, she pretty much is.

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><p>I should have said no. I should have told all those sleep-deprived, unreasonably old-fashioned Ministry officials—my parents and uncle included on that list—exactly where they could shove it. Then, before my mother could lecture me on respecting my elders, I should have stormed out, slamming the door for good measure.<p>

But no. I, Rose Weasley, am bound by my desire to please everyone. Except myself.

And now, what do I have to show for it? An arranged marriage, currently being orchestrated by my parents, and the parents of my future husband: Scorpius Malfoy.

My life has officially gone to shit.

You're probably wondering why my parents, and the Malfoys, are resorting to such archaic measures of matchmaking. Well, a few years ago, there was this... incident with Mr. Malfoy. I don't know the details, but apparently he got into some serious trouble, and Dad and my uncle Harry covered it up. I still don't understand why; they hated Draco in school. He must have had a pretty damn good excuse for them to do all this for him.

Anyway, whatever it was, the press never got wind of it. But they _did_ find out about the "co-mingling" of the two prominent families, and immediately, the speculations began. And believe me, they weren't pleasant. Most people were leaning toward the "Malfoys running out of money and turning to the next-richest family to bail them out" story. A select few believed that Malfoy was trying to make amends for his dirty deeds in the past. From what I hear, he used to be a Death Eater. Anyway, there were numerous theories, and most of them were... less than flattering. To the Malfoys, that is.

So, earlier this evening, they pretty much locked themselves in Harry's study, along with a few people from the Ministry, discussing all possible methods of convincing the public that there was nothing shady going on. And their brilliant idea? _A bloody arranged marriage!_

They came out of the room after three hours of talking, screaming, and presumably crying. Everyone, except for Scorpius and me, was told to go to bed. He and I went into the study, looking warily into the faces of the adults.

"Sit down," Harry said in that quiet, solemn voice of his that means that he's trying his best to be calm, but inside, he's as worried as you are. Not a good sign.

I obeyed quickly, sitting in the nearest chair. Scorpius followed, which put him in the seat beside me. At the time, I thought nothing of it; how was I to know what was coming? Right then, he was just some guy I sort of knew but never really talked to, even though he was sort of friends with Albus, my favorite cousin.

Briefly, Scorpius and I shared a look, one holding a mixture of confusion and dread. Then, we turned to the adults again. Harry was sitting at his desk, Ginny just behind him, a hand on his shoulder. Mum and Dad stood to his right, with Scorpius' mum and dad on the opposite side. The Ministry officials were scattered about the room, looking all... well... _official_. I felt like we were being shanghaied.

"Rose... Scorpius..." Harry began, folding his hands in front of him, "We've all talked about the situation in detail, gone over every possibility, and we think we've found a solution. You're not going to like it, but as I said, we've thought of everything else, and this is really the only option."

I paused, waiting for my uncle to go on. Scorpius, obviously much less patient than myself, blurted out, "So? What _is_ the solution?"

My dad's face went purple, while Mr. Malfoy went white as a ghost. Both our mums were sobbing into handkerchiefs. Harry and Ginny just looked concerned, and a little apprehensive. Finally, Harry cleared his throat, and said, looking at Scorpius, "You and Rose have to get married."

And there it was. The end of my life as I knew it.

Unexpectedly, Scorpius threw a rather impressive fit; it wasn't until his mother put a hand on his shoulder and gently asked him to calm down, that he actually _did_ calm down. Then, we all sat down around the desk, and had a nice, long talk.

First, we went over the arrangements. The wedding was set to take place in a week, on April 30, the day after my twenty-first birthday (happy birthday to me, huh?). It'll be a nice, quiet, _private_ affair, to be held at the Ministry. The only people present will be our parents, Harry and Ginny, the Minister, and the bonder. Which brings me to the next item of our discussion: the stipulations.

In order to convince people that everything is hunky-dory, there are a few things both Scorpius and I have to do. We have to actually _act_ like a married couple. In other words, we have to at least _pretend_ we like each other in front of the public. Worse still, it's going be a magical ceremony—a _bonding_. I'm going to be _bonded_ to Scorpius Malfoy. Then, due to the rules of the standard bonding ceremony, we have to consummate our marriage on the wedding night, otherwise the bond is declared null and void. And have to _stay_ married. _Forever_. Bonded for life. No turning back.

As the Muggles say... FML.

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><p>AN: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW!


	2. Changes

A/N: Just so you know, this is a _really_ long chapter, so be prepared. It's kind of slow at parts, but I promise it'll get better! And hey, at least it's not as short as the last one, right? Right? ...ahem. Anyways, enough of this stupid note. Read on!

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><p>The following week passes far too quickly for my taste, and before I know it, it's my birthday. I'm twenty-one today. And tomorrow, I'll be a wife.<p>

Damn. Why is this happening to me? Why can't I have a normal life, a normal love story, like other girls? Why do I have this stupid sense of obligation to do as my family wants? And why, pray tell, do I feel as if I'm a bloody teenager again, being tossed about by everyone older than me? Damn adults and their damn decisions...

_Damn, damn, damn, damn, da—_

"You're cursing in your mind again, aren't you?" a voice says.

I look up from my spot in the window seat of my bedroom to find Albus standing in the doorway. I smile sadly at him. "You know me too well, don't you, Ally?"

He laughs quietly, then moves to sit beside me. I curl up my legs in front of me and hug them to my chest, to give him room. "Well, we are practically twins, you know... except for the whole different-parents thing," he adds with a wink.

I grin. "Same birthday and everything. Happy birthday, by the way."

"You as well," he chuckles. "How do you feel?"

Sighing, I ask, "Do you want the honest answer or the feel-good answer?"

He gives me a look. "The honest one, of course."

I sigh again, hugging my legs tighter and gazing out the window. "I feel... like my whole life is changing. Like everything I've ever wanted, everything I've dreamed of... has just been tossed out the window, and I can't get it back."

Al holds out an arm, an invitation for a hug. I accept happily, lowering my legs and scooting closer to him. He squeezes me tightly, rocking back and forth in a way that has always been so soothing to me.

"Not _everything_ is going to be different," he says. "You're still you. You can still have the same feelings, ideas, passions, and goals. That won't change just because you..."

"Because I'm getting married in thirty-six hours," I finish for him, my voice shaking from the enormity of what I'm saying. I still have a hard time wrapping my mind around it. Tomorrow evening, I'm going to become Rose _Malfoy_. Tomorrow evening, I'm going to sentence myself to a permanently loveless marriage. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, and force that thought down. I can't handle it right now.

It's Al's turn to sigh. "Come on, Rose, he's not so bad once you get to know him."

I shake my head. "Easy for you to say. You're actually _friends_."

"Yes, and if you remember, we hated each other at the beginning."

"As a matter of fact, I _do_ remember. I also remember wondering who dropped you off the Astronomy Tower, thus resulting in such drastic damage to your brain."

"Ha, ha," he deadpans. "Seriously though, Rosie, he's a good guy. You could do far worse than to marry him."

I roll my eyes. "Thank you for the advice, Dr. Phil."

He frowns. "Who's Dr. Phil?"

"Never mind," I shake my head. "It's not important. Come on," I stand up, smiling at him, "we've got some birthday celebrating to do!"

That night, of course, there's a big birthday dinner held at the Burrow. How we all manage to fit inside Gran's tiny little kitchen still continues to baffle me—probably a lot of _really_ complex extension charms—but somehow, we do. Even now, with the addition of Scorpius and his parents, who all look hilariously out of place.

After some shifting around, rearranging of seats, and some highly irritating assertion from Gran, who doesn't know about the _arranged_ part of our impending marriage, I ended up being sandwiched between Al and Scorpius. Oh, _joy_. Thankfully, though, if Scorpius feels even a little uncomfortable with it, he hides it well, and we go with it for the sake of the agreement. (Personally, I think "agreement" is an extremely loose interpretation of what's transpired, since we've both been kind of forced into it, but hey, that's just my opinion.)

Dinner passes by uneventfully, until the very end, when Granddad stands up, clears his throat, and clinks his spoon against his glass. "If I may," he begins, "I'd like to say a few words. First, a very happy twenty-first birthday to Albus and Rose!"

As everyone (except the Malfoys, of course) applauds exuberantly, Al and I share a look, smiling at one another. He winks, and I roll my eyes. I tend to do that a lot when I'm around Al, don't I?

"Second," Granddad continues, "I want to wish my most heartfelt congratulations to Rose and Scorpius, for their impending marriage."

I stiffen, staring up at my grandfather with barely concealed trepidation. His eyes crinkle as he smiles, filled with love and bittersweet nostalgia. Those few who are privy to the seriousness of the situation also freeze, waiting nervously to hear what he has to say.

"Rosie... from the day you were born, I knew you were destined to do things your own way. You've been a real spitfire from the beginning. And though I must say I never thought it would result in the union of two warring families," he adds, giving a wry look to Scorpius' dad, who squirms in his seat, "I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say that... I think this could be the start of something... truly marvelous."

_What does_ that _mean?_ I wonder silently.

Before I can dwell on it, though, Granddad lifts his glass. "To Rose and Scorpius!"

I have just enough presence of mind to smile, grab my own glass, and raise it with everyone else, while they repeat his words. From the corner of my eye, I see that Scorpius is in somewhat of a daze. As subtly as possible, I elbow him in the ribs, and he quickly follows suit, clumsily lifting his glass, and taking a drink.

After that, everyone slowly begins to trickle out. They all pause to congratulate me and Scorpius on their way out, which causes my stomach to erupt into nervous butterflies. The worst is when Gran comes up to me, pulling me into one of her famous bone-crushing hugs.

"My dear, sweet Rosie!" she sobs. "I'm so _proud_ of you!" She pulls back, smiling tearfully up at me (being the tallest girl in my family at five-foot-ten, it's quite a feat). Her expression tightens then, and I brace myself, knowing I'm in for a bit of a lecture. "I still don't see why your grandfather and I can't come—"

"Molly," Mum rushes in just at the right moment, "we've talked about this. They want it to be private, immediate family only."

"Well, why shouldn't that include Arthur and me? I don't understand—"

"Mum, _please_," Dad interjects, coming to stand beside Mum. "We're already letting you plan a wedding party in a few weeks." I grimace at the thought; according to Mum, agreeing to this party was the only way they could convince Gran not to come barging in uninvited at the ceremony. And believe me, I wouldn't put it past her.

Now, though, it looks like she's having second thoughts. "Yes, but—"

"So, we'll have a reception of sorts, pull out the old wedding tent, dance and drink till we can't see straight, and everything will be fine." Mum looks like she has her own thoughts about whether anyone will be drinking until they can't see straight, but she keeps her mouth shut. "Isn't that enough?"

Gran sighs. "I suppose so," she says, then turns to me. "I so wanted to see you walk down the aisle, though."

To my great embarrassment, I start crying. Thankfully, Gran's already so emotional, she just thinks it's your typical, lovey-dovey, family-based crying (which I do suffer from every so often), and hugs me again. Little does she know that beneath the façade, the real reason I'm crying is because... what she wanted... _I wanted it too_.

And now, I'll never get it.

"I think that's enough emotion for one evening," Dad says, prying me from Gran's death grip. "Come on, Rose, you'd better get some rest. Big day tomorrow."

Again, thanks to Gran's... currently unstable condition, she doesn't notice the dry, toneless voice with which my father says those words. If I were getting married to someone I loved, going about this the traditional way, he might have been happy... sad... bittersweet... excited... possibly angry, but I would hope he wouldn't be; that at the very least, he would be accepting. Even so, I'm pretty sure his anger would be easier to take than this cold, weary absence of emotion.

"We ought to be leaving as well," Mr. Malfoy says. He turns to Gran, all politeness and stiff civility. "Thank you for a lovely meal. We'll see you soon, I'm sure." Gran waves his thanks off, still crying. "Scorpius, come. Say goodbye to Rose."

Scorpius turns to me, his face ashen. "I, er... I guess I'll... see you tomorrow," he mumbles.

_No shit, Sherlock_, I want to say, but what I _actually_ say is, "Yeah."

With that, he gives a sort of resolute nod of his head, then follows his parents out the door, and soon after, I hear a _crack_ as they disapparate to Malfoy Manor. My soon-to-be home.

"Come on, sweetheart," Mum's calm, collected voice whispers in my ear, and she puts a comforting arm around my shoulders. I let her guide me to the fireplace, and we floo home. Once inside my room, I collapse onto my bed, and sob for what feels like hours. By the time I calm down, my pillow is decidedly heavier from all the water it's absorbed. I quickly grab my wand and cast a drying charm, then roll over, lying on my back. Silent tears still trickle slowly down the side of my face, now dampening my hair. Whatever. It's not like it won't look terrible anyway. It always does.

As I lie there in the silence of my darkened room, I contemplate the drastic changes that have occurred in my life in the last few months. First, I applied for admission into Healing school, and was accepted (the _one_ thing in my life that has gone right). Second, I was coerced into accepting an arranged marriage with my long-time nemesis. And third, I was forced to lie to the greater part of my extended family, pretending to be happy about said marriage, when inside, I feel like I'm dying slowly. Blimey, my life sucks.

With this last _cheery_ thought, I finally drift off into a fitful sleep.

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><p>"Rose! What are you still doing in bed? I thought you were up! It's almost one!"<p>

"Wha...?" I moan groggily.

My mother's impatient scoff is all the response I got. "Rose, honestly! We're due at the ministry in five minutes! Get up! _Now!_"

I bury my face in my pillow, muttering nonsense under my breath. My eyes sting from all the crying I did last night, which means they're probably really red. I know Mum probably has a charm to fix that, but still. I don't particularly want to see it for myself. Reluctantly, I drag myself out of bed, not even looking in the mirror as I pull a rubber band around the birds' nest that is my hair, haphazardly throw on some clothes, then grab my dress—_gulp_—and trudge down the stairs.

"Finally!" Mum exclaims. "Let's go! We're late!"

I remain in a daze as we arrive at the Ministry, where a makeup and hair artist are waiting to make a "new me." Since the old me is apparently _so_ last season. They pull out numerous bottles of potions and creams, and begin applying them to my hair and face. Then, they draw their wands, muttering random incantations and doing God knows what, before washing off said potions and creams. Once that's done, they split up, one focusing on my hair, the other meticulously applying makeup to my face. At long last, they announce that they're done, and lead me to a mirror.

Despite myself, I can't help but gasp. Is that really _me?_ No. It can't be. The beauty in the mirror has bright, albeit emotionless blue eyes, peaches and cream skin with only a light dusting of freckles, plump, rose-red lips, and long, luscious waves of scarlet rippling down her back and over her shoulders. I lift a hand to my face, and watch the girl in the mirror do the same.

"Oh, Rose," my mum appears behind me, her eyes shining with tears. "You look so beautiful," she whispers.

I turn around to face her, my own eyes prickling. "Don't make me do it, Mum."

She sighs. "Oh, sweetie, I know it's hard. And I really wish you didn't have to."

"Please, Mum!" I beg, now openly crying.

"Dearie, your makeup—" the makeup artist says, but I ignore her.

"I don't want this! I can't stand the thought of living the rest of my life stuck with some guy who I can never love! Why are we even bothering with this, anyway?" I demanded. "Mr. Malfoy was horrible to you and Dad, _and_ Harry and Ginny! Why go this far to make things right? Why do you have to pull me into this?"

Mum bites her lip, a nervous habit I inherited from her. "Rose, listen carefully. Yes, Draco has done some terrible things, but he never wanted any of that. He was forced into the life he lived, and made many bad choices for the sake of his parents, and his own life. Does that absolve him of everything? No. But for my part, I'm willing to put it aside, and to give him a chance.

"As to your involvement," she adds, "please believe me when I tell you that if there were any other way, we would have gone with that. And trust me when I say that we did look at every possibility, before ultimately deciding on this. And maybe you're wrong about never loving him. Who knows? You still might."

"I highly doubt that," I mutter. "How am I supposed to fall in love with a complete stranger who I'm obligated to marry?"

Mum pauses, her eyes worried. She brings her hands up to my face, cradling it gently. "Rose," she begins, "please promise me that you'll at least try to make things work with Scorpius. You'll only be more miserable if you don't."

"Mum—"

"Promise me, Rose," she says firmly.

Sighing, I nod. "I promise."

Mum smiles sadly, pulling me in for another hug. I sigh again, fighting the urge to cry hysterically. It won't do any good now; besides, it would ruin my makeup. Well, more than I already have.

After some touch-ups on said ruined makeup, the makeover ladies deem me perfect, and ready to get dressed. I unzip the bag containing my wedding dress, and allow them to help me into it. It's a floor-length, sleeveless number, with a baby blue sash tied around the empire waist, accentuating my curves in a way that I'm not so sure my father will be happy with.

Sure enough, when I step out of the room to find Dad waiting nearby, clad in simple black dress robes, he glares disapprovingly at the dress for a moment, before he meets my eyes.

My dad has always been an open book to me, probably because I tend to think so much like him. We both love food, we both love Quidditch, we both love taking the mickey out of our friends and family, we're both incredibly stubborn, and most of all, we'll do anything for the ones we love. And since we have these similarities, I've picked up on some expressions my dad makes only in certain situations. When he's happy, he doesn't always smile outright, but his eyes get a little twinkle, which gives him away. When he's annoyed, his face seems impassive, but he'll always cock one eyebrow up. And when sad or angry, but he doesn't want you to know it, his brow furrows, and his lips purse a little bit, causing a muscle in his jaw to twitch.

He's wearing that expression now.

"Hi, Daddy," I say in a whisper, not trusting my voice to remain even.

The twitching increases as I see tears pool in his eyes—crystal blue, like mine. I give him a hug, silently willing him not to say anything. To just be my dad, and hold me for a moment before I give my life to someone else. He seems to understand, and his arms fold around me, one hand rubbing circles in my back. Then, I hear him sob quietly into my hair. "Merlin, I love you, Rosie," he murmurs.

I close my eyes, futilely fighting my own tears. "I love you too, Daddy."

Mum gives a strangled sob of her own, and rushes forward to join the hug. And then, of course, Hugo just _has_ to come up, wearing a Muggle tux, and he turns it into a whole family thing. We all laugh and cry together for several minutes (they have to fix my makeup again), and then it's time.

Hugo gives me a thumbs up and a wink, which I return by pinching his cheek. Mum gives me one last hug, before the two of them disappear into the designated room.

"Rosie?"

I turn to my dad, heart pounding. "Yes, Daddy?"

He pauses, seeming at a loss for words, but then he says, "Just promise me... you'll never stop being my little girl."

I give him a sad smile. "Well... I'm already sort of grown up... but I can promise that I'll always be your daughter, and that I'll always love you."

"Well," he says, grinning, "I guess I'll have to be satisfied with that." He takes a deep breath, then turns to me again. "Shall we?"

Swallowing hard, I nod my head. He reaches a hand out, knocking softly on the door in front of us. I find myself holding my breath as the door swings open...

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><p>AN: Sorry for the cliffie, but it was just getting a little too long. Next chapter will be the wedding, and the wedding night. ;) REVIEW PLEASE!


	3. Bonded

A/N: 'Kay, this chapter's even longer than the last one, because there really was no way to cut this one down. It all has to be in here. So please, bear with me, 'cause this is _**extremely**_ important to the whole plot. And now, without further ado... inserting juicy, raunchy goodness... _here!_ :D

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><p>"Shall we?"<p>

Swallowing hard, I nod my head. He reaches a hand out, knocking softly on the door in front of us. I find myself holding my breath as the door swings open. Inside is a small conference room, but the typical table has been removed, and the chairs are set up into two small rows on either side of the makeshift aisle. To my left sit the Malfoys, and the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt; to the right, my mum, Hugo, and Harry and Ginny.

At the head of the room stands the bonder, and to his right, Scorpius, who looks very uncomfortable. He stares very determinedly at the floor, wringing his hands, until a harp—when did the _harp_ get there?—begins playing itself. I recognize the tune as Pachelbel's Canon in D, a typical wedding song. At that point, everyone else stands, and Scorpius slowly lifts his head, looking up at me.

Wow. I must really look good.

The second his eyes land on me, they widen in obvious surprise. For a moment, it seems like they linger on my chest, but before I can check to make sure, his eyes have moved up to my face. He doesn't smile at me; in fact, he looks _more_ nervous now. I guess my appearance made him realize this is actually happening.

Merlin, this is happening...

_Shite_.

Well, nothing to do but face the music. No pun intended, magical harp in the corner.

Dad and I step forward together, moving slowly up the tiny aisle. The song has to be abridged, since the "aisle" is so small, cutting several repeats of the familiar motive, and ending poignantly right as Dad passes my hand to Scorpius. _His_ hand, I note with some surprise, is trembling slightly. I squint up at his face, trying to discern his expression, but he's already turning, facing the bonder. Sighing inwardly, I decide it isn't that important. Besides, the bonder's speaking now.

"Friends and family, honored guests, we gather today to witness the matrimonial bonding of these two lovely young people. Now marriage, despite what so many believe, is not all fun and games. It's a contract, unlike any other. It says that you will protect one another, care for one another, and bolster the other up as needed."

It's all I can do to keep from sniggering at his rather unconventional speech. Who the hell says the word "bolster" anymore? Peering out of the corner of my eye, I see that Scorpius seems bored, and a little irritated. He glances sideways, meeting my gaze, and lifts a single eyebrow. With a jolt, I'm reminded of my dad. It looks _just like_ his annoyed expression.

Suddenly uneasy, I look at the bonder again, trying desperately to pay attention to what he's saying now. Something about partners... and more bolstering... oh, hell, I have no idea what this guy's rambling on about!

It's only when he pulls out his wand and begins the actual vow part that I finally tune back in, and my whole body stiffens. I panic internally as my throat goes abruptly dry. How am I supposed to say "I do" with a dry throat? Luckily, though, he begins with Scorpius, giving me time to find my voice. _Thank Merlin_.

"Do you, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, take this woman, Rose Marie Weasley, to be your wife, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to be bonded for life as the power of your magic entwines you together?"

I fight a snort at the last of the vows. _Really?_ So cheesy...

"I do," Scorpius says, his voice barely above a whisper.

The bonder smiles and nods. Oh, shit. Now he's going to ask me.

"Do you, Rose Marie Weasley, take this man, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, to be your husband, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, to be bonded for life as the power of your magic entwines you together?"

_There's that cheesy line again. Seriously, who wrote this? Wait! Shit! I'm supposed to be saying something, aren't I? Um..._

"I-I do," I stammer, my voice shaking.

The effect is instantaneous; a band of shimmery, white light shoots out from the end of the bonder's wand, wrapping around our joined hands. Then, the band seems to shatter, and the tiny flecks of light sort of... dissolve into our skin. A strange warmth shoots up my arm, and throughout my body, making me gasp. Scorpius gasps, too, his eyes wide. That same warmth surrounds me, becoming a force so strong that it seems to be pushing me. No, not pushing... _pulling_. Pulling me toward Scorpius. I subconsciously take a tiny step toward him, shocked as he does the same. We both glance down at our hands, and I notice a silver band on his finger that wasn't there before. Subtly, I feel my own left-hand ring finger with my thumb, and find that I, too, have mysteriously acquired a ring.

And in that moment, I finally understand what has just happened.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the bonder speaks again, confirming my realization, "may I present, Mr. and Mrs. Scorpius Malfoy."

If he's expecting applause or cheers or some expression of enthusiasm, he doesn't get it. No one speaks for a long while, then the Minister stands.

"You both know what is required of you, yes?"

I gulp; he's referring to what has to happen tonight. We have to have sex. In order for this marriage to really be considered legal, we have to have sex. _Tonight_.

_Ugh, I feel sick..._

"Miss Wea—I mean, Mrs. Malfoy?"

_And now I feel even more sick._ "Yes, I understand," I say in a voice that doesn't sound like my own.

"Very well," he nods, smiling slightly. "I will leave you now. A dinner has been set up for you and your families in the next room over..."

I don't hear the rest of his sentence, for my mind has finally wrapped around the events of the last five minutes.

It's done. We've been bonded for life. I am now officially Rose Malfoy.

_Bollocks_.

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><p>Dinner is incredibly tense, and utterly silent for the most part. I barely touch what's in front of me—I know, shock—instead contenting myself with pushing the peas and carrots around the plate in a game of vegetable Quidditch. Just when I'm about to push the carrot Seeker toward my pretend Snitch (a kernel of corn), I feel someone's hand on my shoulder.<p>

"Are you ready to go?" Scorpius asks me in a whisper.

My throat tightens; am I ready? Oh, no, I'm most definitely _not_ ready for this step. But I have no choice. And now that I think about it... maybe it'll just be better if we get this over with as soon as possible.

"Yes," I mutter in reply. He looks torn between relief and disappointment, which tells me he must be feeling the same way. Well, at least I'm not alone.

Scorpius stands up. "We, uh, ahem..." he trails off, clearing his throat after his voice breaks on the first word. All eyes turn to him, and he fidgets nervously. He attempts to speak again, this time with a much more steady voice. "We're just gonna... head out then. Erm... good night."

I very nearly slap my palm to my forehead. Good night? _Really?_ Ugh.

After some extremely awkward goodbyes and one last tearful hug from my mother, he takes my hand and we disapparate with a pop. We appear, a moment later, in a lavishly decorated bedroom in Malfoy Manor. At least... I _think_ it's Malfoy Manor. If it is, it's definitely not what was expecting.

The walls are painted a pale greyish-blue, with a darker shade of greyish-blue for the baseboards and trim. His team of choice seemed to be the Wasps, judging by the few posters on the wall. The floor is a dark, smooth hardwood, contrasting prettily with the light-colored walls, with a large, decorative area rug situated in the middle of the room. The bed itself looks to be made of the same wood as the floor—a large, ornate canopy, with midnight-blue curtains and a midnight-blue duvet. I can't see the sheets, but I wouldn't be surprised if they were also midnight-blue.

"I guess I know your favorite color," I deadpan.

Scorpius clears his throat. "Yeah... I've always liked blue..."

"Huh," I respond.

We stand in an uncomfortable silence for a few more seconds, before I say, "If you don't mind, I'd really like get all this stupid makeup off."

He gives a short, nervous laugh. "Right, yeah. Bathroom's over there," he says, pointing to a door in the opposite corner of the room. I start toward it, then stop upon realizing that I'm still in my wedding dress. Guessing my thoughts, Scorpius says, "I think your mum brought some of your clothes early this morning. It should be in that wardrobe."

I nod absently, moving toward the wardrobe in question, rummaging through the drawers. Thankfully, there aren't any lace teddies or what have you, just typical clothes and pajamas. Eventually, I settle on a pair of red and black flannel pants and a grey t-shirt. I suppose it doesn't really matter what I wear, since...

_Okay, Rose, don't think about that now. Just get cleaned up._

It turns out that dress is a lot easier to get _into_ than it is to get _out of_. I struggle with the zipper for a few minutes, then manage to pull the blasted thing off. For a split second, I consider just tossing it to the side—this bathroom's ten times cleaner than any I've seen anyway, what could it hurt?—but I end up hanging it carefully on a hook on the back of the door.

Finally free of the dress and its confines, I pull on my infinitely more comfortable pajamas, and then turn to look in the mirror. Miraculously, all the makeup is still perfectly intact, not a smudge in sight. It looks horribly out of place, though, with my current attire. Pointing my own wand at my face, I close my eyes and mutter, "Scourgify." The spell gently scrubs my skin, and after a few seconds, I open my eyes to see my face the way it usually is, makeup-free and covered in freckles.

Satisfied, I quickly run my fingers through my hair, relishing the silky feel of it for a few moments, since it probably won't be like that in the morning. And... partly because it's one last thing I can do to prolong the inevitable.

Finally, when I'm sick of playing with my hair, I grab my wand again, muttering a quick contraception spell. It's not really necessary, as my last period just ended a couple of days ago, but I don't want to take any chances. I may be married now, and sex and having kids may be perfectly fine, but it's going to be hard enough just getting used to the whole _married_ part, let alone being married with a baby in less than a year.

Then again, people will be expecting us to have children before too long. That _is_ part of being married. But... who knows when that will happen? _If_ that will happen? The way I see it, here really are only two possible outcomes to this. One: Scorpius and I will make it work. We may or may not fall in love with each other, but whether we do or not, people can manage to coexist in a loveless marriage. I don't like the idea, but it's a possibility. And if this happens, having children won't be so horrible. Awkward, yes. Horrible, no.

Two: we'll end up hating each other, making each other absolutely miserable, never having sex again after tonight, and regretting this whole debacle until the day we die—or until we get the bond annulled. That's a possibility... right? Of course it is. Surely, there have been annulments in the past, if nothing else, for the safety of both parties involved. Otherwise, at least one person would inevitably end up killing the other. And I'd rather get an annulment than try and stick with a guy I hate. Not that I really anticipate this marriage taking such a drastic turn, but... well, I guess you never know.

With these options in mind, I feel a small boost of confidence, and a strong wave of determination. It might only be tonight. And even if it's not, it might only be one more time after that, just to keep the Malfoy name alive. Then, nothing else. So... just this once... maybe twice... it shouldn't be so bad... right?

Taking a deep breath, I step out of the bathroom. Unsurprisingly, Scorpius is already out of his dress robes. What _does_ surprise me is his attire: a pair of dark blue sweat pants... and _no shirt_.

Damn... he really is fit, I'll give him that. Perfectly toned chest, chiseled abs, rippling biceps, and he isn't _hairy_. I really hate hairy guys. It's so gross.

He's in the process of turning down the bed—I was right, the sheets _are_ midnight blue!—when he stops, straightening up as I come back in. I can't help but stare at the way his skin stretches over his muscles, the way they tighten as he moves. It's beautiful and disconcerting at the same time.

Scorpius looks like he wants to tease me about staring at him, but thankfully, he doesn't. He drops the edge of the duvet, then closes and relaxes his fist. I rack my brains for something to say, but come up with nothing. What could I say, really? We both know what we have to do, and there's no getting around it. Any words either of us could say would just make things _more_ awkward, if that's even possible.

Silently, anxiously, I step toward the bed, rubbing my arms to soothe away the chill of discomfort. I stop, however, when he suddenly plops down on his side, stretching languidly across the bed.

He notices this, and gives a quiet chuckle. "You can join me, you know."

I glare at him. "I know."

"In fact... you're kind of required to. Magical laws and whatnot."

Part of me wants to snap at him for his cheeky humor, but the bigger part of me is stunned at his composure. "How can you be so calm?"

He shrugs. "It's just sex. And we're married, aren't we?"

My body stiffens, and I inhale sharply. "Well," I snarl, "it's good to see you can be so cavalier about something as important as this. This isn't _just sex_, Scorpius. This is the consummation of a marriage. And if you can't see that, and can't take it for what it is, then we should just forget this whole stupid plan and let things go back to the way they were."

I know I've hit a sore spot; this whole thing was devised as a way to get the media off his family's back. If we turn back now, it'll just cause a riot with the press. I know that, I know _he_ knows that, and I know he won't want to risk it.

"Touché," he mumbles. I nod in acknowledgment, but say nothing else. After a few moments, though, he speaks again. "But... you still have to come to bed."

"Don't be a prat," I snap, but finally manage to unglue myself from my spot in the middle of the room. Tensely, I sit on the edge of the bed, swinging my legs up onto it, before scooting back against the headboard, pulling my legs into the "Indian-style" position.

Scorpius sighs, and props himself up on one elbow. "Look," he says, "I'm gonna level with you; I'm nervous about this too. Yes, I've had sex before, but this is different. It's... a huge deal. And... well, even though neither of us wanted this... I don't want to screw it up." I look at him in surprise, and find him gazing hopefully at me. "I'm willing to do what I can to make this work. The question is... are you?"

My thoughts flit back to the promise I made to my mother. I promised I would try, and I fully intend to keep that promise, at least to the best of my abilities. So, with another deep breath, I nod my head. "Yes."

He smiles gratefully. "I'm glad."

I exhale slowly. "So... how do we go about this?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, _this_," I gesture between us. "You, me... _sex_."

He laughs. "Um... well, you just go for it."

I can feel my face burning bright red. "Well... I don't exactly... erm..."

"Wait," he says pensively. "Are you a _virgin?_"

My blush darkens. "Maybe," I mumble.

Instead of the mocking laughter I expected, he instead lets out a low whistle. "Wow. I, um... I wasn't expecting that."

I frown. "What do you mean, you weren't expecting that?"

"Well, I just thought... you might have... you know, at least once..."

"Oh, my God!" I gasp. "I can't believe you'd think that!"

"Come on, it's not that big a de—"

"For your information, _Sparky_," I cut him off, "I was planning to save myself for the man I... well, the man I fell in love with..." I trailed off, feeling a pang of sadness.

To my surprise, he looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry."

I shrug, trying not to let my emotions get the better of me. "Whatever, it's fine," I said. "We do what we have to do for our families. And right now, we have to do this, and I'm new to _this_, so you're going to have to take the reins on this one."

"Fair enough," he nods. "So... I suppose I should just... do what I normally do with girls... right?"

"Sounds sensible," I agree. "Just... pretend I'm some beautiful, mysterious girl that you are intensely attracted to, and then I'll try to follow your lead."

His eyebrows pull together, in disapproval of something I said. Before I can ask him what's wrong, though, he pushes himself into an upright position, and leans toward me. My eyes flicker involuntarily to his taut abs, travel up his bare torso, and land on his lips just a second before they meet mine.

To say that I'm shocked would be an understatement of the highest degree. The instant our lips touch, an electric shock pulses through me, humming through my veins, making my skin seem to almost vibrate—but not in an unpleasant way. I feel that same warmth, the warmth from the bond, encompassing him and me in a thick cloud, pulling us closer. I let my eyes flutter closed and give into my hormones and physical lusts, ignoring my mind completely. Not an easy task, mind you. Even as the kiss deepens, I find myself nearly pulling away, my mind racing with a thousand questions and reasons why this is _so wrong_. But it's not wrong, I try to assure myself. We _are_ married, and this is what we have to do.

Scorpius' hands slowly roam across my body, sticking to the "safe zones" at first (i.e. shoulders, back, sides, neck, you get the idea). My own hands trace the contours of his chiseled torso, and I'm surprised at how incredibly _smooth_ his skin is. As my hand travels lower, brushing the waist of his pants, his breath hitches in his throat. For a moment, I'm afraid I've done something wrong, but as his eyes meet mine, and I see the unmasked ardor lurking in them, I realize it's exactly the opposite.

Before I can really process this, however, he grabs my shoulders roughly, pushing me down into the mattress, and his lips claim mine again.

In the next several minutes—or maybe hours, I'm not sure—we fulfill our duty, and consummate the marriage. I won't lie, the sex is much, _much_ better than I would have expected. He's clearly very experienced in the art of love-making, and though I don't know for sure how he took my response to his passion, I feel like I did all right... considering it was my first time... at least I hope so...

When it's over, we lie on our respective sides on the bed, and wait for our breathing to return to normal. As I do, I feel a strange mixture of emotions. Many of them are understandable; confusion, because of this whole ridiculous situation; lingering lust, because... well... I just had sex with my _very_ attractive and adept husband; and a little self-conscious, as I don't know how I did with the whole sex thing. What really surprises me, though, is the... _excitement_ that courses through me. It feels as if... as if I'm thrilled to have found someone who can keep up with me sexually. But that doesn't make any sense. How can I feel that way, when this was my first time, and I don't know if I was keeping up with _him?_

"Rose?"

I start slightly at the sound of his voice. "Yes?" I say quietly.

"Are... are you feeling self-conscious right now?"

_How does he know?_ My insecurity increases, causing me to squirm a bit. After a few moments, I answer him with another question: "Why?"

"Because... _I_ feel self-conscious." At first, I'm inclined to feel sympathy, but at the same time, I'm even more confused. If he's done this before, why should he be self-conscious? He answers my unspoken question as he continues, "It kind of feels like I'm worried about... whether or not I was good enough during... you know. It almost feels like... this was the first time."

It hits me then. My mum always alluded to being able to feel what my father was feeling at any given moment, even if she didn't agree with it. I just thought she meant she was extremely empathetic, plus they've been married for years, so she knows him really well. But this... _this_ must be what she meant.

"Are you at all... excited right now?"

Scorpius scoffs. "Rose, I'm a guy, and I just had sex. Of course I'm excited."

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep a snarky comeback in, and after I feel like I've sufficiently quashed it down, I say, "I can feel it, too."

He is silent for a moment, and I sense his comprehension. "Then... we can feel each other's emotions?"

"It appears so," I nod.

"Whoa," he breathes. "That's... gonna be interesting."

I chuckle mirthlessly. "No kidding."

We fall into another silence then, and my head begins to hurt with all the different thoughts and feelings spinning around in it. I wonder briefly if Scorpius is getting annoyed, too, but then I feel a sense of apprehension, which I can tell isn't my own. What does he have to be nervous about? He battles with his emotions for a long time, eventually settling the internal argument with quiet determination. Then, he says softly, "You're beautiful, Rose. Don't ever think that you aren't."

I don't know what to say to that, so I don't bother trying to come up with something. My head swims with confusion at his words. He thinks I'm beautiful. I guess that's a normal thing to think about your wife... but then again, we weren't married under normal circumstances. So there's nothing normal about it.

"Why are you so confused?" he asks me.

Oh, no. There's no way I'm explaining this one to him, when I don't even really understand it myself. "Nothing," I mutter, and I roll onto my side, facing away from him. "Go to sleep."

Just as I'm sure he can feel my stubbornness and mild irritation, I feel his surprising twinge of hurt at my sudden coldness. I almost want to apologize, but I decide against it, for tonight at least. I can tell he desperately wants to say something, but thankfully, he doesn't. He just rolls over, and quickly falls asleep. Releasing a breath I didn't realize I was holding, I close my eyes, soon following suit and drifting off to sleep.

* * *

><p>AN: Okay, so it's not really that raunchy. But _wow!_ What did you think of the bonding ceremony? The result of their sexual encounter? Let me know! REVIEW!


	4. Acceptance

A/N: Another one for ya!

* * *

><p>I wake the next morning to the unexpected scent of bacon and cinnamon. Cautiously opening one eye, I spot a tray of sweet rolls, bacon, and half a grapefruit sitting on the bedside table. Smiling, I sit up, eager to fill my stomach (hey, I'm a Weasley, it's genetic). I pause in the process, though, realizing I'm not in my bedroom... I can't hear my dad snoring in the next room... and I can't hear Hugo singing at the top of his lungs for no apparent reason. And then, the memories of last night flash across my mind. The wedding. Sex with Scorpius. This new, weird connection thing. <em>Joy<em>.

Sighing, I turn to the food again, pulling the tray onto my lap. I eat quickly, then stand up, heading over to my designated wardrobe to look for some actual clothes to wear. I find a pair of old jeans quickly, but it takes me a moment to find a shirt. Just as I begin pulling out a plain yellow tank top, I feel something tickling my toe. When I look down, I see something with eight legs crawling over my foot.

"_GAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!_"

I kick the spider off my foot, drop my clothes, and scramble onto the bed, standing on top of it, hugging one of the bedposts. The beast of terror wavers for a moment, then scuttles across the floor, and begins climbing the wall.

"Rose! Rose, are you all right?"

At the sound of the voice, I turn to the door, and a second later, Scorpius appears, pale-faced, wide-eyed, and hair a bit windswept.

"_Spider!_" I screech, pointing to the offending creature on the wall.

He relaxes visibly and heaves a sigh. "Is _that_ all?"

"_All?_" I repeat incredulously. "There's a _spider_ on the _wall!_ It crawled on my foot, and then it went on the wall, I jumped up here, and that's when you came in!"

To my fury, he laughs. "It's just a tiny little bug."

"Tiny!" I scoff. "Yes, it's _tiny!_ Compared to an Acromantula, yes, very tiny! But in general? _No!_ That thing is _anything_ but tiny!"

He laughs even harder at this. "Shall I get rid of it for you, then?"

"Yes!"

Still chortling, he pulls out his wand, and uses it to open the window, levitate the spider, and toss it out the window. "There," he nods, closing the window.

"Thanks," I mumble, slowly loosening my grip on the bedpost.

"So," he says, walking over to me as I land on the floor. "Arachnophobia, eh?"

I nod, taking slow, steady breaths. "I get it from my dad."

"Well, not that there's anything, er... wrong with being afraid of spiders... but maybe you ought to think about getting over this particular fear. We are in the middle of a forest, after all. Spiders happen. And it's not going to do either of us any good if I have a mild heart attack every time you see one tiny arachnid."

My face burns with embarrassment as I realize he's talking about our connection. "I apologize if my phobia has inconvenienced you," I spit acidly.

Scorpius chuckles lightly. "Apology accepted." The fear dissipates, and is replaced with irritation. Of course, he senses this, and his smirk grows. "Now, are you done being dramatic?"

"Depends on how long you keep internally mocking me," I shoot back at him.

"I'm done," he says, though I can still feel his amusement.

"Right," I mutter dubiously. "Why do you ask, anyway?"

He grins. "I have something for you."

My curiosity sparks at this. "Really? What?"

"Get dressed, and I'll show you."

Sighing in exasperation, I roll my eyes, grab my clothes, and go into the bathroom to change. After making sure there are no more death-bugs anywhere nearby, I quickly take off my pajamas and don the jeans and tank top. Taking a quick look at my reflection, I'm pleasantly surprised to see that my hair isn't quite back to its usual bushy mess. Deciding that it still looks okay, I just run my fingers through it to get out the big tangles, then I go back into the bedroom, where Scorpius is waiting.

"Come on," he gestures for me to follow him, then walks out of the room. He leads me down a long hallway, eventually stopping at a pair of double doors. Glancing over his shoulder, he pushes the doors open.

When I see what's inside, I gasp. In a room as big as the one we just left, every inch of the walls are lined with beautiful gowns and party dresses. Well, _almost_ every inch, I should say. There is one section that's made up of shoes and accessories.

"Is this _mine?_" I whisper.

"All yours. I asked your mother to help me pick most of them out, since she knows your taste in clothes much better than I do." He smiles at me. "Think of it as a late-birthday-slash-wedding gift."

I shake my head. "I can't accept all this."

He fidgets uncomfortably. "Okay, see, this isn't just a gift. Unfortunately, my family has a lot of... obligations to fulfill. We're not well-liked, so we have to do what we can to regain the favor of the public, and the Ministry. Hence... our marriage," he points out, then he goes on. "But that's not enough. There are a few Ministry balls coming up, plus some less formal dinner parties, and plenty of informal functions all across the country. And since you're now part of the Malfoy family..."

Finally, I realize what he's trying to say. "I need to dress like it," I finish for him.

"Just when we go out, especially places where the press will be. When we're here, you can dress however you like."

If it weren't for this connection that allows me to feel his remorse and unease, I might have been angry, and stormed off to the bedroom. As it is, I _do_ know what he's feeling, and I know he doesn't mean to offend, and he doesn't like it any more than I do. So I just shrug. "I'm a girl. Girls _like_ playing dress-up."

He frowns at me, then shakes his head with a quiet laugh. "You're very odd."

I grin. "Why, thank you, Sparky."

A single eyebrow lifts up at the name I've now used twice. "'Sparky'?"

"Yup," I say, popping my lips on the "p."

"May I ask what possessed you to give me that particular nickname?"

"Well, last night, it I used it because that's the name I call people when I'm annoyed with them," I smirk. "Now... I think it suits you."

The other eyebrow goes up. "Do you, now?"

"Yup," I say again.

"Hmm," he replies, his eyes narrowing. "What if I asked you not to call me that?"

I give him a faux-apologetic smile. "I'd still do it," I shrug. "You'd sort of be begging me to at that point."

"Uh-huh," he nods, torn between amusement and irritation. He glances around the room for a moment, then turns back to me. My stomach lurches as I see that same expression he was wearing yesterday, the same expression I recognized as one of my own father's. That almost-impassive, quirked-eyebrow look of annoyance. His brow furrows a second later, and I know he must have felt my surprise. "What?"

"What, what?" I try to fend him off.

His frown deepens. "Come on, don't play dumb. I can feel it too, remember?"

I exhale sharply. "It's nothing. Thank you for the dresses," I change the subject skillfully (well, maybe not skillfully). "So, when's the first function or ball that I have to dress up and look pretty for?"

He obviously wants to revert back to the old subject, but after a brief battle with himself, I feel a sort of determination from him, and he shakes his head. Thinking he's going to pepper me with questions and demand to know the truth, I stiffen and hold my breath. Instead, he says, "There's a ball at the Ministry tomorrow night."

I gape at him. "_Tomorrow?_"

Scorpius gives me a look. "Rose. What's the date tomorrow?"

"It's May the sec—_ohhhhhh_." My eyes grow wide with enlightenment. "The anniversary of Voldemort's defeat."

"Precisely. There'll be a dinner, and the traditional ball to follow."

"I see," I nod absently.

He gives a quick, tight-lipped smile, then steps toward me. "Listen, I've got to run. I have some business to take care of, but I'll be back in an hour or two. If you need anything, call for Tilly or Gabby, and they can help you."

"Wait, who are Tilly and Gabby?"

"Our house-elves," he says, suddenly wary. "You're, um... you're not a major elf-rights activist, are you?"

I shrug one shoulder. "My mother would shoot me if she heard my say this, but no, I'm not. Unlike her, I can accept that house-elves generally _like_ working."

Scorpius laughs softly. "They certainly do. Well... I'd better be off." He turns to leave the room, then stops, facing me again. "Oh, and by the way, if you happen to get lost, just pull out your wand and say _Atlas_, and you'll get a map of the Manor. Mum got lost so many times her first year here, Dad decided to make it easier for her to get around."

"I'll probably get lost plenty of times," I laugh. "Thank you."

He looks at me for several moments, and projects his warring emotions. I can't be quite sure, but it feels like he's fighting between some forbidden desire and his own common sense. Which, of course, makes _absolutely no sense_. Just when I'm about to ask him about it, he clears his throat loudly, quickly averting his gaze. "I'll see you later," he mumbles, and disapparates.

_That was weird._

* * *

><p>Unsurprisingly, I do manage to get lost several times, calling upon the <em>Atlas<em> quite frequently. Eventually, I start to learn my way around, though I'm sure it'll take me at least a few weeks to memorize the location of every room and closet. Around one in the after noon, I call out for Tilly (the first name I could remember), and a short, squat, mouse-like elf appears in front of me.

"Good afternoon, young Mistress!" she squeaks, bowing low. "I is Tilly! What does young Mistress require?"

"Uh... could I get some lunch, please?" I ask.

"Certainly!" she grins, her head bobbing up and down excitedly. "What is young Mistress wanting for her lunching?"

"Er... surprise me," I say with a shrug. I hadn't really thought of anything.

Still smiling, Tilly bows again. "Tilly will be back, young Mistress!" she announces, then disappears with a crack.

"Awkward..." I mumble to myself, and I glance around at my location. I'm in one of the many long, winding corridors of the manor, with branches leading to different wings, and a few doors here and there. I've looked at most of them, but one certain door catches my eye.

It's made of dark, polished mahogany, with beautiful carvings and engravings on the surface, and a big, old-fashioned brass doorknob. My curiosity flares, and I step toward it, turning the knob slowly. What I find inside makes me gasp in delight.

_A music room._

Ever since I was a little girl, I've always loved music. My singing voice isn't as good as Hugo's, but I do like to sing, and I love playing the piano. To my excitement, a grand piano sits in the very center of the room. I vaguely register the few other musical instruments that line the walls—a harp, a mandolin, some woodwinds, a horn, and an acoustic guitar—but the greater part of my focus is bent on the piano. Softly, reverently, I place my fingers on the keys, not applying any pressure, just feeling the amazing potential they held for making beautiful music. The piano is obviously very old, probably from the mid-nineteenth century, if not earlier. Every surface of it is coated with dust and grime from years of disuse.

"You poor thing," I whisper.

Suddenly, with a crack, Tilly appears in the doorway, holding a tray that looks bigger than her. "Young Mistress's lunch is ready!"

"Thank you, Tilly," I smile, taking the tray from her. She bows again, but before she leaves, I ask her, "Tilly, do you know how old this piano is?"

Eyes wide, she shakes her head. "Tilly is not knowing how old dusty piano is. Piano has been here lot longer than Tilly has. Master might know. Master used to come to play music when he was still _young_ Master. But Master has gotten busy, always running, always leaving for long amounts of time."

I realize that she's talking about Scorpius' dad, not Scorpius himself, and I nod once, feeling a strange sense of kinship with this man I barely know. "Thank you, Tilly," I say again, dismissing her. I scoot the bench away from the piano, pulling the tray onto my lap, and eating the fish and chips Tilly made for me.

Once I'm finished, I call for her again, and she takes the tray and asks me if I need anything else, to which I shake my head. After she disappears, I turn back to the piano, letting my hand glide across the music stand. A pile of dust gathers beneath my hand, and I grimace. Brushing my hands off, I pull out my wand, casting a gentle wind charm, until it's completely dust-free. Then, carefully, I play a C-major triad. It seems like it's in fine shape, but just to make sure, I play a quick scale with both hands. Sure enough, not a note is out of tune. Amazing, considering how long it must have been since it was last played. Magic really is a wonderful thing.

Smiling to myself, I sit at the bench, and coax my favorite song, "Arabesque" by Debussy, from the keys. I sway and sigh as the melody comes to life beneath my fingers, allowing it to fill me up entirely. At the end of the song, I open my eyes, and frown at the general state of disrepair of the room. The wallpaper is peeling, the walls themselves are dusty and stained, and so is every instrument in the place, other than the piano. I decide then that I'm going to fix it. I've helped with some mild renovations in the Burrow, and it's lucky that house hasn't tumbled to the ground by now. Here, in a perfectly stable mansion, this room should be a cinch.

But not today. Today, I'm just going to play music, and reconnect with my favorite instrument.

With another smile, I play through several other favorites of mine: "Claire de Lune," "Moonlight Sonata," "Turkish Dance," and even some compositions of my own. As I play, a sort of weight seems to lift from my shoulders, and I feel happier than I have in days. Who knew all it would take was a little music?

Halfway through a complicated piece by Rachmaninoff, Scorpius appears. Even if I couldn't feel his surprise, I would have been able to see it clearly etched across his face, from the raised brow to the dropped jaw.

"I didn't know you played," he says with admiration.

I feel the beginnings of a blush, and I lean further into the song, hoping to hide it from him. "Yeah, well... it's not something I really shout to the world."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not one to brag," I say simply.

Scorpius frowns. "But it makes you happy."

I stop playing, shocked, and look up at him. I watch him for a few seconds, then turn back to the keys, drawing Beethoven's "Fur Elise" from the ebony and ivory. After a few bars, I say quietly, "I don't tell anyone because I don't do it for anyone else. I do it for me, because it makes me feel good, and I like to feel good."

"Most people would share something that makes them that happy with anyone and everyone they meet."

"Well, I'm not most people," I point out, not looking up from the keyboard.

"No, you certainly are not," he says, and a foreign emotion erupts in my chest. It's coming from him, I know that much, but I can't tell what it is. It's something I've never felt before, and judging by the subtle surprise that follows, neither has he. It confuses me, but then, everything lately confuses me, so I just let it go.

Besides, I really like this song...

"My dad used to play that song," Scorpius says abruptly.

I glance up at him, smiling. "Really?"

He nods. "Whenever I was sad or hurt, he'd bring me up here and play for me. And sometimes I'd follow him here, and just listen to him play. 'Fur Elise' was always his favorite... and it became mine, too."

As I finish the song, I fold my hands in my lap and turn curious eyes to him. "Why did he stop playing?"

Scorpius shrugs. "He started getting more flack from the Ministry and the _Prophet_, and then there was that whole Cleansweep incident—"

"Cleansweep incident?"

His eyes narrow briefly, then grow wide. "You mean you don't know?" I shake my head. "I would have thought your uncle would have told you, since he was the one who bailed Dad out."

"All I know about that is that something happened, and Harry and my dad helped him out. They didn't tell me anything else, and I didn't ask."

"Well... maybe I should tell you, just in case someone tries to be funny and bring it up," he says darkly, then launches into the explanation. "A couple of years ago, Cleansweep came out with this new line of broomsticks. They were supposed to read your thoughts or something, so that all you had to do was think about where you wanted it to go, and it would go there."

I grimace. "I remember those. There was some sort of scandal there, right?"

"I'm getting to that. So anyway, Dad bought several hundred galleons' worth of shares, thinking it was the idea of the century. But then there were all these reports of people suffering from memory loss, seizures, and extreme personality shifts. It turned out, the spell on those brooms was somehow getting into their brains and damaging them. Naturally, the public was outraged. Everyone who'd purchased one of those brooms was suing Cleansweep. They went out of business, and everyone who'd bought stock lost a lot of money."

"Including your dad," I murmur, understanding instantly. "Oh, dear."

He sighs. "Dad was devastated. He'd put more money into those stupid brooms than they were worth, and he was on the track to losing _everything_. He was at a bar one night, trying to drink his sorrows away—" the way Scorpius says this makes me think he's not a fan of drinking, "—when your dad and uncle happened upon him. I guess Dad ended up telling them what had happened, and Harry, out of sheer pity, said he would help. He said that Dad had helped him with something in the past, so the least he could do was pitch in a little, get him out of the trouble he was in. So he paid Dad some money, helped him get back on his feet, and used his pull with the media to get them off Dad's back... temporarily."

By the end of his narrative, I'm stunned, shaking my head in disbelief. "I... I never knew how serious it was."

Scorpius gives a crooked little half smile. "Don't worry. We didn't exactly shout _that_ from the rooftops," he says, using my words from just moments ago. "Anyway, the lawsuits stopped, and the press left us alone for a while. Then last year, out of nowhere, this article comes out about Dad and his... '_troubled past_.' It accused him of some things that were completely untrue, and some things that were close to the truth, but obviously stretched. But no matter how hard Dad tried to stop the media circus, they just kept dishing out more dirt.

"So he went to Harry again, being significantly humbled after the first time he got his help. And then... well... you know the rest."

I certainly do. The rest is that they arranged a marriage between me and Scorpius, in an effort to dissuade some of the nastier rumors about Mr. Malfoy, namely his idea of blood supremacy (which he'd long ago dispelled), and his hatred for the Weasley family (this, too, he pushed aside, right after the war).

Hearing this story from Scorpius, combined with what I already knew, does help me to understand the situation, and why this step was necessary. And understanding it better, somehow makes it easier to accept.

The piano doesn't hurt, either.

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><p>AN: Sorry, weird place to end it, but once again, the chapter was just getting way too long. I hope this cleared up some confusion about why Rose and Scorpius had to get married in the first place. It's a little far-fetched, but... then again, this is Harry Potter. There's nothing truly realistic about Harry and his world. So, I guess it's okay.

PLEASE REVIEW!


	5. Nervous

A/N: Before I begin the actual chapter, I just want to say a big _**THANK YOU**_ to all the wonderful reviewers out there! You are the reason I keep doing this! (Was that a big enough thank you? Hehehe... ahem.)

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><p>The next day finds me in somewhat of a frenzy. I've spent the entire morning and a good part of the afternoon trying to perfect a spell to get rid of the birds' nest atop my head (which, unfortunately, has resurfaced), but the only thing I seem to be able to do is make it worse. After the fiftieth failed attempt, I growl in frustration and brush through the tangles to return my hair to its usual state.<p>

Just then, Scorpius comes into the bathroom. "Erm... what are you doing?"

"Getting angry," I snarl.

"I noticed," he quips. "Mind telling me _why_ you're so upset?"

"That!" I point to my reflection.

He lifts one eyebrow. "The mirror? What did it ever do to you?"

Sighing in exasperation, I turn to face him, then point instead to my hair. "_This_," I amend, still scowling.

Scorpius frowns. "Your hair? What's wrong with it?"

"What's _wrong?_" I repeat incredulously. "Scorpius, we're going to a ball in a few hours! I can't go to a ball looking like this!"

"I repeat my question, what's wrong with it?"

Rather than answer him, I face the mirror, muttering under my breath. I grab the brush and attempt to calm the frizz, but of course, to no avail. I hear Scorpius sigh, and through the connection, feel his... disappointment? Puzzled, I stop brushing, and meet his eyes in the mirror. "What?"

"Why do women always feel the need to change themselves for a _ball?_" he asks.

My first instinct is to snap at him, but as I think about it, I realize he's right. It's just a stupid ball! And I've been to this particular event before, and have never cared so much about my hair. Why now? Of course, the answer came instantly. Before, I was a Weasley. Everyone loved me automatically, because of my name. But my name wasn't Weasley anymore.

"I'm a Malfoy now," I say quietly. "I want to make a good impression."

He gives me a brief, grateful smile then looks at my hair. "If you're really so intent on changing your hair, Mum knows a beautician with a salon in Hogsmeade. She does house calls. Shall I see if she's available?"

I chew thoughtfully on my lip for a few seconds, gazing in the mirror at the bright red, bushy disaster atop my head, then nod. Mimicking my gesture, he disappears into the bedroom, and I can hear him floo-calling someone. A few moments later, he comes back, grinning. "She'll be here in five minutes."

"Thank you," I sigh.

He doesn't reply, but turns around and walks away. I can feel... something from him, but it's hard to tell what it is. That disappointment is still there, but it's combined with irritation and something else. Merlin, who knew a guy could be so _complicated?_

As promised, five minutes later, a tall, stocky, heavily perfumed witch bustles into the bathroom, brandishing her wand. "Monica Reese, at your service, ma'am," she winks at me. "Right then. Scorpy tells me you want to do something with that hair?"

_Scorpy?_ I make a mental note to give him crap about that later. And he complained about _my_ nickname for him! "Er, yeah... it's just too... frizzy."

"Easily fixed, love," she grins, showing a row of straight, white teeth. Boy, this bird really _does_ know her beauty spells. There's no way her teeth could be that white without some sort of magic involved. "Now, do you want it straight and sleek, or a bit of wave?"

"I... I honestly don't know," I shrug. "Erm... what do you think would be best?"

"Hmm... let me look at you..." Monica grabs my shoulders a little roughly, turning me this way and that, all the while humming pensively to herself. Finally, she stops, and has me face her head on, and scratches her cleft chin in thought. After a few more seconds, she grins. "You know what? Curl works for you. But you're right about the frizz." Snapping her fingers, a stool appears, and she pushes me onto it. "Now don't you move a muscle, love. You'll be looking gorgeous in no time!"

I wait patiently as she douses my hair, and begins muttering charms I've never heard before, and repeatedly wrapping sections of my hair around her wand. After about fifteen minutes, she casts a drying charm, and pulls me off the stool. "What do you think, love?"

As I look into the mirror, I smile. Unlike the potions used on my hair for the wedding, which slicked my hair into a gentle wave, Monica has given me a head of very pretty, natural-looking curls that bounce just a little when I move. It's a change, but it still looks like _me_. "It's perfect!" I say, and I give her a brief hug, but instantly pull back, embarrassed. "Oh, er... sorry."

Monica chuckles deeply. "Not to worry, love. Now, this will last you until you wash it next, unless you want to make it permanent."

"Oh, I do," I nod enthusiastically. "My hair has _never_ looked this good!"

She grins, her rather large chest puffing out in pride. "Well, then... I'll just do the charm then, shall I?" With a few flicks of her wand, she casts another charm, and smiles at me. "There you are. If you ever need any help, love, just give me a call, or visit my salon, all right?"

"I definitely will," I reply. "Thank you so much!"

"My pleasure, dear. You know," she adds, eyeing me thoughtfully, "I think you'll be good for dear little Scorpy."

My eyes widen in surprise. "Oh! Er... why do you say that?"

"He's been so solemn ever since his grandmother died, him and his father both. Bit scary how alike those two are. But you," she beams, "I think you might just be the spark that brings light back into this family."

"Right," I mutter uncertainly. "Well, thank you again."

"Don't mention it! Toodle-oo!"

As Monica leaves, I stand in the bathroom, frozen with bewilderment and shock. Her words rang in my mind: He's been so solemn ever since his grandmother died... You might just be the spark that brings light back into this family. What did she mean?

Shaking my head, I realize I've only got an hour to get ready. Rummaging through my limited hair accessories, I find a simple, silver barrette, and pull half of my hair back, closing the barrette around it. A few strands fall out in the front, framing my face prettily. Nodding once, I switch off the light and head down the hall to pick out a dress for tonight. Once there, however, I find myself completely incapable of making a decision.

As if on cue, Scorpius comes in (he's really good at that). "Stuck?"

I sigh. "I can't pick one."

He laughs quietly. "Would you like me to help?"

Cocking one eyebrow, I smirk at him. "You're an expert on gown-picking?"

"No, but I can offer opinions."

"Hm. Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt." I pull out three gowns I'm stuck between, and move to hold up one of them—a pale green, chiffon number—against me and show it to Scorpius, but before I can, he grabs another, made of ocean blue satin.

"This one," he says.

I frown. "I didn't even show you the others yet."

"This one," he repeats.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. It matches your eyes."

I gaze at him for a long time, trying to figure him out. After a moment, he seems to realize what he said, and his cheeks take on a pink tinge. Now, how is that fair? When _he_ blushes, his cheeks are "tinged pink," but when _I_ blush, I turn bright red from my hairline to my bust, including my shoulders and upper arms!

Ugh. Nothing in my life is fair.

"All right," I say finally. "I guess I'll wear this one, then."

"I'll meet you downstairs," he says, and turns to leave without another word. I watch him go, all the more baffled by his behavior. _It matches my eyes?_ How the hell does he even know what my eyes look like? I don't think I've ever really looked at his eyes. Dear God, I'm a terrible wife...

Wait... since when do I care? I didn't want to marry him to begin with!

_Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck!_

Growling to myself, I shake these puzzling thoughts from my mind, and close the door so I can change. Surprisingly, the dress is pretty easy to get on. The bodice is loose enough that I can breathe, but still very flattering and form-fitted. The neck is a modest halter, the fabric crossing over my chest and wrapping around in the back, and the skirt is somewhat full, but flowing, and thankfully, not at all poofy (I hate poofy dresses).

Satisfied with the dress, I walk over to the jewelry, looking for something subtle. I decide on a pair of diamond earrings and a matching diamond bracelet (yes, they're real!). Impulsively, I pull out a pair of elbow-length, white silk gloves, and slip them on. Then I find the closest thing to sensible shoes I can find: silver, strappy kitten heels, only an inch and a half high.

After looking at my reflection for a few seconds, I decide that I can get away with very little makeup (it's amazing how much having a decent hairstyle improves your overall appearance). I carefully apply some mascara and lipstick, and leave it at that. Then, grabbing a silver clutch for my wand and some money, just in case, I head down the stairs.

As promised, Scorpius is waiting for me, straightening his dress robes. When he sees me, he stops moving altogether, and his jaw drops. I feel a warm, tingly sort of glow spreading through me, and I can't tell if it's from him or me. I smile at him, and descend the stairs slowly. His eyes follow me as I near him, and I take a moment to look into them. They're grey, I realize. The color of clouds just before a storm.

My smile becomes a smirk, and I reach up and tap the bottom of his chin. "Close your mouth, Sparky," I tease. "Wouldn't want a fly to accidentally buzz in."

He blushes for the second time today, clearing his throat. "You look, uh... nice."

"You don't look so bad yourself," I nod toward his dress robes. We stand in silence for a few moments, until the awkwardness starts getting to me. "Are we just going to stand here all night?"

"Let's go," he says, taking my hand and disapparating.

A second later, we appear at the usual apparition point in the Ministry, just outside the ballroom. The queue to get in is smaller than usual, and I realize we must be here early. Whenever I came with my parents, we would always be either late, or just barely on time, so the line always seemed miles long.

Scorpius holds an arm out for me to take. Somewhat apprehensively, I tuck my hand into the crook of his arm.

"There's bound to be all kinds of reporters here tonight," he warns me. "They will have heard about the marriage by now, and they'll probably bombard you with questions."

"Oh, goody," I deadpan.

He grins. "Just get used to using the phrase, 'No comment.'"

"Right."

"And don't look at the cameras, or you won't be able to see anything for an hour."

"Got it."

"And whatever you do, _don't_ dance with the Ministry Ambassador for Belgium. He has 'hands like an octopus,' or so my aunt Daphne says."

After a brief pause, I say, "No comment." He laughs aloud at this, and I can't help but laugh a little, too.

As we wait for the doors to open, I glance around at some of the other people. Most of them are unfamiliar to me, but I do spot a few people I recognize. I smile and wave at Rolf and Luna Scamander, and their twin sons, Lorcan and Lysander. Not far from them are Neville Longbottom, his wife Hannah, and their daughter Alice. I try not to be too obvious as I search for my parents and Harry and Ginny. And Albus. Especially Albus. I didn't realize until now just how much I miss him.

Finally, the doors open, and the line crawls slowly into the ballroom. As we approach the front, I spot the usual announcer, taking the names of the people entering, and shouting them in a dignified sort of drawl. When we reach him, Scorpius whispers our names, and he nods.

"Mr. and Mrs. Scorpius Malfoy!"

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><p>AN: Sorry, I had to end it here! Too much to fit in! Next chapter should be nice and long, though! :D REVIEW!


	6. Failed

A/N: And now, the moment you've all been waiting for: the ball scene! Enjoy!

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><p><em>I have died every day waiting for you<em>  
><em>Darling, don't be afraid<br>I have loved you for a thousand years  
>I'll love you for a thousand more<em>

-"A Thousand Years," Christina Perri

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><p>"Mr. and Mrs. Scorpius Malfoy!"<p>

The effect is instantaneous; no sooner do we step through the open doors into the room, than a dozen or more cameras flash off at once. I do my best not to look at them, but there are so many that it's proving extremely difficult. And even without looking directly at them, the brightness and great number of flashes creates a wall of light, and I stand, stunned, for a few moments.

Eventually, though, Scorpius pulls me out of the throng of reporters, and into the ballroom. I blink several times, trying to rid my eyes of the splotches still impeding my vision.

"You'll get used to it," he says beside me.

"Not bloody likely," I mutter.

"Don't worry," he pats my hand. "They're only allowed in for the first few minutes, then, as soon as the dinner begins, they have to leave."

"I can't wait," I grumble as one particularly ambitious photographer dances around us, taking picture after picture.

We move to a somewhat secluded corner, away from almost everyone else. Scorpius grabs a couple of glasses, filled with what looks like champagne, and hands one to me. For a while, we stay there, Scorpius pointing out people I should know, including Ambassador Octopus. A few times, we're greeted by colleagues of his father's, and they congratulate us on our marriage. I twitch anxiously with each introduction, which I know Scorpius can feel, because he glances at me each time.

After a brief conversation with yet another colleague, whose name I've already forgotten, he leans close to me and whispers, "If you don't stop squirming, you're going to make _me_ nervous."

"Sorry," I mumble. "I just... I haven't the faintest idea what to say to these people."

"You're doing all right," he smiles. "I would refrain from telling any more childhood anecdotes, but aside from that, you're doing fine."

I blush at his reference to my telling the Minister from Russia about the time Albus, James, Teddy and Victoire pretended to be in the Triwizard Tournament from about thirty years ago. (Al was Harry, of course, James assumed Viktor Krum's role, Teddy literally _became_ Cedric Diggory, which freaked Harry out a little, and Vic, the spitting image of Aunt Fleur, played the part of her mother).

"He was the one who brought up Krum," I point out, "asking if I'd ever met him, since apparently, he was close to my Mum."

"You could have just said no."

My blush darkens, and I scowl at him. "No one asked you, Sparky."

Scorpius laughs. "No, but I enjoyed telling you all the same."

"Rose!"

I whirl around to see the very person I've been wanting to see all night. "Al!"

He grins, jogging over to me and enveloping me in a big hug. I squeeze him back, wanting never to let go. All too soon, though, Al pulls away, beaming at me. "Look at you, Rosie! Marriage looks good on you!"

"Hush, you!" I glare at him, swatting his arm.

Al chuckles, then turns to Scorpius. "Scorp, old boy! How goes it, my friend?"

"I'm well, thanks," Scorpius grins, and they do the "manly slap of the hand followed by awkward handshake" thing that boys always do. I roll my eyes at them, which Al catches, and he winks at me.

"So Rose, have you talked to Gran yet? Boy, she's just dying to throw you that party your Mum and Dad promised. Been driving them nuts about it!"

"Oh, dear God," I groan. "I forgot about that."

He snickers. "You'd better go see her soon, and get finalizing those plans. I think her head might just explode, or if hers doesn't, your dad's _will!_"

I grin. "That would certainly be entertaining."

"Indeed. Well, I have some people to see, some ladies to charm. Scorp," he adds with a nod to his friend. "Let's get a game of Quidditch going this week, yes?"

"We'll see," he says stiffly. I glance sideways at him, just noticing the sudden change in him. He's incredibly tense, even a little irritated. Yet again, I'm greeted with the expression that so reminds me of Dad.

Once Al is off flirting with a group of teenage girls, I turn to Scorpius. "What's up?"

"What do you mean?" he asks tonelessly, not meeting my eyes.

"Nice try," I roll my eyes. "Or are you forgetting that I _know_ when you're upset?"

He sighs, still wearing the annoyed look. "I'm not upset."

"Yes, you are," I say, frowning. "Come on, tell me."

"I am not upset," he snaps. "Stop insisting that I am, or I will _become_ upset."

My frown becomes a furious glare, and I clench my fists. "_Right,_" I mutter, turning on my heel and stalking off. He calls after me, but I ignore him, shaking my head. I keep walking, ignoring everyone around me, until I'm outside on the veranda.

The cool, late spring air tickles my skin, and I shiver. Rubbing my arms, I walk to the edge of the enormous balcony, which overlooks Muggle London. I gaze out into the night for a moment, then I hear someone come up behind me. I don't have to look to know that it's Scorpius; the sudden onslaught of extra feelings is proof enough. One that is _not_ among them is remorse.

"Dinner's starting," he says shortly. With an irritable huff, I swivel and start back toward the ballroom, not even looking at him. As soon as we're back inside, though, an unfamiliar face practically attacks me, jumping up to shake my hand.

"Oh!" I cry in surprise.

The stranger smirks. "My apologies for startling you. I don't believe we've met."

"Er—"

"Zabini," he offers. "Blaise Zabini. Nice to meet you Miss..."

"Uh, _Mrs._, actually," I correct him. "I'm Rose... Malfoy."

"She's my _wife_." Scorpius appears behind me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I'm tempted to shake it off—I'm still mad at him—but I remember that we're very much in public. Then, I notice a burning anger in the pit of my stomach that is far deeper and intense than the irritation I felt before. Where is this coming from? When did I start feeling murderous? But then I glance at him, and see another of my father's facial expression: the I'm-angry-but-I-don't-want-you-to-know face, complete with furrowed brow and twitching jaw muscle. More than that, his eyes seemed to have darkened, now a violent, stormy grey that made a nervous chill go down my spine.

Zabini grins, wholly oblivious to his fury (or perhaps just ignoring it). "Ah, young Scorpius," he greets, holding out a hand to shake. Scorpius takes it with a grip that I'm surprised doesn't break off his fingers. "How's your father?"

"Fine," he replies curtly.

"Is he here this evening? I'd love to catch up with him. Draco and I were friends in school," he explains to me. "Good friends. Thick as thieves, we were."

"He's not here," Scorpius cuts in. "He's in Marseilles."

Huh. I didn't even know that. I make a mental note to ask Scorpius about that... as soon as he's apologized for being a prat.

"Shame," Zabini says, but something about his tone and his expression makes me wonder if he really cares. "Well, give him my best. Always a pleasure, Scorpius. And Rose..." he takes my hand, kissing the back of it. My stomach churns with instant dislike. This guy's a creep if I ever saw one. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

As he walks away, I shudder. "Ugh. I feel so violated right now."

"I really hate that guy," Scorpius mutters under his breath.

"I can't imagine why." _Note the heavy sarcasm_.

"You'd better stay away from him," he says to me.

Despite his warning, I feel my anger returning. "Thank you for your concern, but I can take care of myself," I say acidly.

He turns to me. "Rose, I mean it. You don't know what he's like."

"I'll be fine. Dinner's starting," I remind him, and I start toward the tables that have now been set up.

Just like during the wedding dinner, I find myself pushing my food around my plate; this time, I've pitted small pieces of potato and roast beef against each other, in yet another game of food-Quidditch. I can feel Scorpius' confusion, and curiosity, as he glances over at my plate from time to time. I refuse to look at him.

Finally, the Minister announced the end of dinner, and with a clap of his hands, the food and tables disappear. The chairs rearrange themselves to form rows, and a sort of podium rises up from the floor, directly in front of Kingsley. Once everyone has found a seat, he begins speaking.

"Twenty-seven years ago," he says in an almost reverent voice, "many of us here stood on the grounds, or within the battered castle, of Hogwarts School. We lost countless friends and family members, and a good half of us or more were injured in some way or another. Though battle was in remission, all hope seemed lost.

"Then, like a beacon of light, one person rose up, and saved us all. That person, as you all know, was our very own Harry Potter." There's a bit of scattered applause throughout the crowd, and I spot my uncle sitting at the front, blushing and looking at his hands. I smile; Harry has never really gotten used to his fame, and probably never will, which I really don't think is a bad thing at all.

"I'm sure you're tired of hearing this, Harry," Kingsley continues, "but we are very grateful for what you've done, on that day, and every day since. You've sacrificed more than any one person should have to in his life, yet you bear it cheerfully, with unwavering patience. Your humility and your readiness to help everyone and anyone for absolutely no reward is what makes you great. On behalf of the Ministry, once again, I thank you."

The audience applauds again, and Harry goes even more red. I laugh quietly to myself, clapping along with everyone else, but not for the same reason. I clap for the terrific, sensitive, selfless man that is my uncle, not the savior the rest of the world views him as. That's not him. Who he really is, is someone much better than that.

Even if he did force me to marry a Malfoy.

"And now," the Minister speaks again, once the applause dies down, "in celebration of this great event, we must dance, drink, and be merry!"

I chuckle under my breath, rolling my eyes. Typical Kingsley. As we stand, the chairs vanish, the lights dim, and music begins to play. A hand touches my shoulder, and I look at Scorpius. His irritation seems to be gone, and he's finally feeling the remorse I've been waiting for. _About bloody time_.

"I know you hate me right now, Rose, but... will you dance with me?"

For a second, I consider this, then I nod my head. I can't help but feel a little uneasy as one hand finds my waist, and the other takes mine, holding it out to the side. I rest my free hand on his shoulder, and he pulls me closer to him. It feels... strangely intimate, dancing with Scorpius. Which is utterly preposterous, since I've already had sex with the guy and slept in his bed two nights in a row. Even so, I feel a quiver of unease at our close proximity.

"Rose?" he says, shaking me from my thoughts.

"Mmm?"

"I'm sorry I snapped at you. You were right. I was upset."

I give him a wry look. "Well, blow me down," I drawl sarcastically.

He laughs self-consciously. "Yeah... I can't seem to get used to this... bond thing. I keep forgetting that you can feel what I feel. I'm just... not used to people asking me what's wrong. I've gotten really good at controlling my emotions."

"Maybe you should be _less_ good," I suggest. "There's nothing wrong with having emotions, Scorpius, and there's nothing wrong with _showing_ them. Should you wear your heart out on your sleeve? Definitely not. But if you lock yourself up, no one will ever really get to know you. And that would be a shame."

Scorpius stares at me for a moment, then asks, "What do you want to know?"

"Well, considering we're going to be spending the rest of our lives together, let's start with everything."

"You won't run screaming in the opposite direction?"

"No, I hate exercise. And screaming hurts my throat," I joke, and a grin spreads across my face as he laughs. "In all seriousness, though," I add, "why would I run away?"

He looks down at the floor, avoiding my eye. "You'd be surprised, actually."

"Try me."

Glancing up at me, he shakes his head. "Later. Now's not the time."

"Fair enough," I nod, and we slip into a surprisingly comfortable silence. I suppose it can't really be called silence, since there is music playing, but still. After a while, though, I feel I should say something. "I don't hate you," I tell him.

He smiles. "Glad to hear it."

"Glad to tell you," I feel myself smiling in return.

The song ends then, and we stop dancing, but Scorpius' hand doesn't leave my waist. Instead, he loops that arm around me, leading me off the dance floor. His grip tightens suddenly, and a raw, churning dislike bubbles up from an unknown source. I lift my head to look at him, intent on asking him what's wrong _this_ time, but before I can, a now-familiar figure swoops in and grabs my arm.

"Mind if I steal your wife for a quick dance?" Zabini drawls, smirking at Scorpius.

"As a matter of fact—"

"Brilliant, knew you'd understand," he interrupts, and whisks me away. I can feel the instant, boiling hatred and rage emanating from Scorpius, mingling with my own exasperation in a somewhat deadly combination. This guy better watch out.

When he stops, he pulls me much closer than necessary, and his hand falls a little too low than is acceptable for a public ball. I reach behind my back and push it up, giving him a look. "My waist is _here_," I snarl.

"Mm, feisty, are we?" he taunts. "You're quite the little spitfire, Rose Malfoy, and I must say, I'm enjoying it tremendously."

I give him a threatening smile. "And I'd enjoy seeing just how much _you'd_ enjoy being at the receiving end of my wand. Tell me, do you _enjoy_ the bat-bogey hex?"

He chortles in a manner that could almost be considered affable, if one hadn't been listening to our conversation. "Oh, you are extraordinarily amusing, my dear. I'm willing to bet you're like this in the sack, as well." My jaw drops. Did he _really_ just say that? "You're wasted on little Scorpius over there. Can't appreciate a woman's fire, her passion. It's not his fault, all the Malfoys are the same. Dry as dust. Now," he leans closer, "if you were to drop the poor schmuck now, and come with me, I'd certainly make it worth your while."

Shaking with disgust and white-hot fury, I step out of his grasp, and slap him across the face with a resounding _smack!_ That's not enough, though; while he's still in shock from the slap, I quickly pull up my skirt a little bit and kick him in the groin, causing him to collapse with a groan. The music stops abruptly, and all eyes turn to me. I ignore them, instead glaring down at the prostrate man at my feet.

"How dare you!" I scream. "How dare you even suggest such a thing, you disgusting, perverted _arse!_ If you ever put your hands on me again, I swear, you will be _begging_ the gods for a merciful death!"

The crowd gasps, and I realize where I am. The color drains from my face, and I feel a hand on my back. "Come on, Rose," Scorpius' voice whispers close to my ear, and then, the gossiping starts. Everyone begins chattering all at once, shooting Scorpius and me the most hateful, disparaging looks I've ever seen in my life. As he leads me to the door, I hear someone mutter, "Damn those Malfoys. Think they can get away with anything," and several other comments along those same lines.

Outside, the reporters and photographers are waiting, and they begin snapping countless pictures of us. They must have had their ears pressed to the doors, the wankers. I keep my eyes trained straight ahead, as Scorpius guides me swiftly to the apparition point. We reach it, not a moment to soon, and we apparate back to Malfoy Manor.

And then I burst into tears, collapsing to the floor.

"Rose? Are you okay?" Scorpius kneels beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I shake my head, avoiding his gaze. He pauses for a moment, then he folds his arms around me, pulling me into a timid embrace. Being so in need of comfort as I am, I respond by throwing _my_ arms around _him_, clinging to him and sobbing like a child against his shoulder. He's surprised at first, but then he tightens his hold in me, and rocks back and forth. It reminds me of being with Albus, yet it's so different at the same time. But it comforts me... a little. A _very_ little.

"I've failed you," I blurt out through shaky sobs. "I've failed your father. I've failed everyone!"

"Shh," he whispers, his hand moving up to my hair, stroking it gently. "You haven't failed anyone."

I barely hear his words, lost in my despair. I don't know how long we stay there, me crying relentlessly, him holding me. The last thing I register is a pair of lips on my brow, before I fall asleep in his arms, completely exhausted.

* * *

><p>AN: Zabini's a dick in this story. I seriously wasn't even planning that. It just sort of happened. Ugh. But anyways, how'd you like the ball? The dance? Why do you think Scorpius was so upset? _**PLEASE REVIEW!**_ Did I emphasize that enough? ;)


	7. Questions

A/N: Six days since the last update? Eh, not bad. Not great, but not bad. Sorry for the wait, you guys! I've been on spring break this last week, and though it was lots of fun, it was also incredibly busy! Anyways, here's the next installment! Loves!

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><p>"Some pray to marry the man they love. My prayer will somewhat vary: I humbly pray to heaven above that I love the man I marry."<p>

-Anouk Aimee

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><p>The first thing I notice when I wake up is that my head <em>really<em> hurts. Like, hangover kind of pain, except I'm pretty sure I didn't have more than one drink last night.

The second thing I notice is that I still have my dress on. Joy.

I open my eyes slowly, surprised to find that I'm in Scorpius' and my bed. My shoes are on the floor, and I see my clutch resting on the bedside table. The soft, muted light coming in from the window tells me that it's still very early in the morning, no later than six. Groaning, I try to roll over and sleep some more, but in the process, I become aware of a slight weight over my middle.

It's an arm. _Scorpius'_ arm, to be precise. Turning my head slightly, I see him fast asleep beside me, still in his dress robes. His hair is adorably mussed, and his face is gentle and relaxed. I realize that I've never seen Scorpius this way. The past two mornings, he's always woken up before me, and been dressed and put together. I smile, glad I've been able to see him without his walls and subtle bravado.

As I watch him sleep, a warm glow seems to envelop me, and I find myself smiling softly. Impulsively, I snuggle closer to him, watching his face. For a split second, I think I see him smile, but I'm sure I've just imagined it. I sigh contentedly, relishing in the warmth, and soon fall back to sleep.

* * *

><p>"Rose. Rose, it's time to wake up."<p>

"Mmm," I groan, shaking my head. "Five more minutes."

Scorpius laughs. "You said that five minutes ago."

I frown, still not opening my eyes. "I did?"

"Yes, you did. And five minutes before that, as well. It's really time to get up now."

"Oh, fine," I say, then commence grumbling under my breath as I open my eyes and slowly sit up. "Damn mornings, always come too soon..."

Still laughing, Scorpius sits on the edge of the bed beside me. I notice that he's changed clothes and brushed his hair already. Of course. I smile inwardly at the memory of seeing him not so tidy earlier. I think I like him best that way.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks, his face more somber now.

My face warms. "A little." I chew on my lip, and finally meet his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For last night," I say quietly, looking down at my hands. "I made a fool of myself, of you, of the whole Malfoy family, all in less than thirty seconds."

"It doesn't matter."

My eyes snap back to him in surprise. "What?"

"Dad's having a meeting with the editor of the _Prophet_ now. I explained the situation to him. He knows what a prat Zabini is. He's trying to convince them to print an article about what actually happened, even if it's just a few paragraphs. I doubt they will, but if nothing else, they won't be putting out any more stories about last—"

"Any _more_ stories?" I repeat apprehensively.

He sighs. "The _Prophet_ had an entire section dedicated to the ball. One full page is about you and me... particularly your little... outburst."

"_Bugger_."

"Don't worry about it," he says reassuringly. "It's not important."

"But the whole purpose of our marriage was to help clear the Malfoy name, to win over the Ministry, not to make a complete and total mockery of your family! Instead of helping, I've just made things worse." New tears begin to blur my vision, and I close my eyes in shame.

"Rose, look at me." Reluctantly, I do so, and find him closer. My heart jumps in my chest, and I swallow thickly. "It's not your fault. Zabini's a prick, and you reacted in a typical manner. Like you said, there's nothing wrong with showing your emotions."

I feel myself blushing. "There is when doing so ends up causing a riot and spurring people into making venomous remarks."

"To hell with them," he says bitterly, and I nearly gasp aloud at his boldness. "They aren't worth getting so upset over. Yes, this will make things a little more difficult, but you know what?" He leans closer, smirking. "I'm pretty sure every person in that room was secretly thrilled to see someone finally tell that bastard off."

My expression matches him, and I giggle quietly. "And let me tell you, it felt _so damn good_ to do it."

He grins. "There, see? You're going to be just fine."

"What about you? Will you be fine?"

"_Everything_ will be fine," he assures me. "You don't need to worry."

"I'm a girl," I say seriously. "It's what we do."

"I thought shopping and making light-hearted quips was what girls do."

"That too."

Scorpius laughs, then stands up. "You'd better get dressed. We have to get going."

I frown up at him. "Where?"

He smirks, one eyebrow quirking up. "You'll see."

With that, he turns around and walks out of the room. I smile to myself, excited and nervous at the same time, wondering what he has planned. Well, I'll never find out if I don't get ready. I stand up and walk over to my wardrobe, and find a pair of white shorts, with a blue and purple belt, and match it with a sky-blue tank top. I don't have any blue flip flops, so I settle for a black pair. Then, brushing quickly through my hair, I grab my wand and head downstairs.

Scorpius grins at me as I skip down the steps. "Ready?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "Where are we going?"

"Patience, grasshopper," he says, surprising me with a Muggle television reference.

"If you think I'm going to start calling you 'Master Po,' you've got another thing coming, Sparky."

He glances sideways at me, smirking, but says nothing. Motioning with his hand for me to follow him, he leads me into a large study. Almost half of the far wall is taken by a grand fireplace, large enough to step into. Resting on the heart is a decorative crystal jar filled with powder, which I instantly recognize.

"We're flooing?" I ask.

"It's too far to apparate, and I don't trust portkeys."

"You're so weird."

"Why, thank you."

I roll my eyes, shaking my head, but allow him to lead me to the fireplace. He opens the jar, tosses some of the powder into the fireplace. Subtle, barely-smoldering green flames flicker within the hearth, licking the smoke-stained brick, and Scorpius says, "Le Grande Chateau de Malfoy!" causing the flames to triple in size.

"Go on," he whispers, and I cautiously step into the green fire. When I land, I find myself in a small, yet picturesque cottage. _Grande Chateau?_ I muse wryly, taking in my surroundings. A moment later, though, I'm startled from my thoughts by the entrance of a short, stout man with a few wisps of white hair on his head. His eyes twinkle with excitement.

"Ah, you must be the new Mrs. Malfoy!" he greets with a French accent.

"Er... yes?" I say uncertainly.

Chuckling, the man holds out one hand, showing five very stubby fingers. After a moment, I remember myself, and shake the hand graciously. "I'm André."

"Rose," I provide.

A moment later, the sound of the fire alerts me to Scorpius' arrival. He grins at the old man, forgoing the handshake and pulling him into a hug. I can't help but watch on in surprise; I've never seen Scorpius show his affection so openly.

"André," he grins, "cela fait si longtemps. Comment êtes-vous?"

Oh, goody. Now they're speaking in French. Just _parfait_.

As I wait for them to include me in the conversation (and switch to English), I let my eyes wander, and the view outside the window catches my eye. In the distance, I can see a long, winding cobblestone path, leading up to what looks like a garden. But before I can step closer, to see more of the garden, Scorpius calls my name.

"Mmm?" I respond, turning my head to look at him.

He grins, and I note that André is now going about his business. "Let's go."

"_Where_ are we going?" I ask, getting impatient.

His grin widens. "You'll see. Oh, but before you do..."

An instant later, my vision is suddenly impeded by a thick, folded cloth. "What—I—_Scorpius!_ How the hell am I supposed to see with this infernal thing over my eyes?"

"Just wait," he chuckles.

I sigh and grumble under my breath for a moment, about "stupid cloths" and "I can't bloody _see_ anything," and "pratty husbands," not bothering to hide my annoyance.

"I heard that. Just relax. You'll see soon enough."

The next moment, I feel the rough, somewhat calloused skin of his hand on mine, and my breath hitches. For some reason, having my eyesight temporarily taken from me has enhanced our bond. I can feel that sweet, glowing warmth, and more than that, I can sense his mounting excitement. The connection seems to grow stronger, and for a split second, I remain still, staggered by the unexpected change.

Scorpius leads me along, and I register the rise in temperature as we move from inside the cottage to just outside. A few seconds later, he helps me up into what I can only assume is a carriage, and we begin moving. Neither of us speak, but I'm sure my impatience and anxiety are coming off me in waves, just as his enthusiasm is radiating from him. After some time, the carriage comes to a halt, and Scorpius helps me out. I allow him to steer me, his hands on my shoulders, before almost too soon (because oh, his hands feel _good_), he stops me.

"Ready?" he whispers close to my ear, his breath tickling my skin. I suppress a shiver, and merely nod. Then, he removes the blindfold, and I gasp.

We're standing at the end of the path I'd seen earlier, which lead not only to the garden I'd also noticed, but to a beautiful, Victorian-style mansion. I have to turn my head from side to side just to take it all in. The house is made from a light, taupe-colored brick, with turrets and gables and shining windows. Surrounding the house, the garden gleams with life and light, dotted with brightly-colored flowers of every size, shape, and scent. I recognize a few—roses, petunias, bluebells—but there are many others that I'm unfamiliar with. The path winds around the house, and around a large, ornamental fountain in the front. With the brilliant, azure sky as a backdrop, and birds chirping happily, I'm convinced this place is paradise.

"What...?" I begin, but my voice tapers off before I can finish.

"It's one of our estates. We have five in all. The Manor in England, this one, a villa in Greece, one in Cairo, and a mansion on Fifth Avenue in New York."

"_Five estates?_" I repeat shakily.

"Mm-hmm," he confirms. "Right now, we're in Marseilles, about twenty minutes from the city. It's very secluded, so there's no chance of Muggles accidentally stumbling in on us. André is an old family friend, he's been the manager of this estate for years."

Something clicks in my brain. "This is where your father was last night."

"Yes. He had some business with André."

I nod absently, unable to come up with any further response. I stare dumbly at the glorious house before me, and he laughs softly beside me. "I take it you like it?"

"Oh, yeah," I breathe, smiling.

"Come on," he says, placing his hand on the small of my back. "Let's go inside."

* * *

><p>After a tour of the mansion—of course, it's just as beautiful inside as it is outside—he calls Gabby, and asks her to prepare a meal for us. The house isn't as large as the Manor, but it's more elegant, and infinitely more welcoming. It actually feels like a <em>home<em>.

During dinner, I catch Scorpius gazing up at me several times. Finally, just as Gabby clears away our plates, I call him out on it.

"What, may I ask, has you so fascinated, Mr. Malfoy?"

He grins. "I'm Mr. Malfoy now?"

"Well, you're always Mr. Malfoy," I point out, resting my elbows on the table and folding my hands beneath my chin. "Just because someone doesn't call you something, doesn't mean you cease to be whatever it is."

"I suppose that's true," he allows.

"So..." I prod, "you never did answer my question."

"Well, since you asked, I was just remembering something you said last night."

I raise an eyebrow. "And what was that?"

"Something along the lines of... 'If you lock yourself up, no one will ever really get to know you. And that would be a shame.'"

My face warms a little at his uncanny recollection of my words. "Erm... yes, I did say that, didn't I?"

"Mm," he nods. "You also said, when I asked you what you wanted to know, 'Let's start with everything.'" He looks at me carefully. "Does that still stand?"

"Of course."

Scorpius smiles. "Then I'll tell you everything... but only on the condition that you do the same. I want to know you, as well."

"Sounds fair," I grin.

"So... how shall we go about this?'

I ponder this for a second. "How about a game of twenty questions?"

His brow furrows. "A game of what?"

"Twenty questions. We take turns, one question at a time, and the other person is obligated to answer each question, and to answer truthfully. What do you say?"

"I say you start."

"Okay..." I pause, thinking of a question. "When is your birthday?"

He scoffs. "_That's_ your first question?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure that's something a wife should know about her husband!" I defend myself. "Besides, you have to answer. So, get on with it!"

Scorpius rolls his eyes. "January seventeenth."

"All right," I nod, jotting the date down in my mind. "Your turn."

"Okay. Just how big _is_ your family?"

I snort. "And you mocked _my_ question. My family is... large, to put it mildly. There's Gran and Granddad Weasley, and they have six children—well seven, really, but my Uncle Fred died in the war—and each of them have two or more children. Victoire is pregnant with twins, due sometime in December, and Roxie just found out she's going to have a boy at the end of March. So, doing the math, that's... about three dozen of us. And we also have our family friends, like Neville and Hannah."

"Merlin," he mumbles. "Do I have to meet _all_ of them?"

"Ah-ah-ah," I scold, waggling a finger at him. "It's my turn now."

He sighs. "Fine. Go ahead."

"If you could talk to one famous person, Muggle or magic, who would it be?"

His cheeks turn pink, and he squirms. "Erm... I'd rather not say."

"Obligated to answer," I remind him with a smirk. "And you have to be honest." With another sigh, he mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. "What's that?"

"I said... Harry Potter."

"Uncle Harry?" I say with a laugh. "But you've met him!"

"You didn't ask who I wanted to _meet_, you asked who I wanted to _talk to_. And the only thing I've said to him is 'Fine,' in response to..." He trails off, looking (and feeling) incredibly uncomfortable. "Well, you know."

I clear my throat. "Yeah, I do. Okay, it's your turn now."

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes boring into mine, before he asks, "Why are you so against having your grandmother throw a party?"

My face twists into a grimace. "Are you kidding? Ugh," I shudder. "My family is notorious for its parties. They all start as your typical manic, too-close-for-comfort family party, but they end up with every one of my uncles, and most of my cousins, slobbering drunk and hitting on people that _aren't_ their spouses or dates. The few of us who manage to stay sober are left to watch the kids, or to keep the especially inebriated sods from causing too much trouble. Inevitably, one person gets wildly offended by something or other, and the whole thing unravels into chaos." I give another shudder. "Trust me, you don't _want_ to go to a Weasley party."

Scorpius laughs. "Perhaps not. Still..."

I frown. "Still what?"

He shrugs. "I just thought... it might be nice. You know, give everyone a chance to see us together. I mean, we are supposed to be a happily married couple."

A chill runs down my spine, and I swallow. "Well... yes... but can't they just see us at Christmas? That's the one party we're obligated to go to. Other than that, we can just avoid them altogether."

"You don't really want to avoid your family, do you?" he asks.

"Um, yeah," I say bluntly. "I do, actually."

"Why? You love them."

"Of course I love them, they're my family. But that doesn't mean I want to spend every waking hour with them, or that I'm particularly fond of watching them all make complete idiots of themselves." I shake my head. "I'm not saying I want to cut them off. I just don't want to spend more time with them than necessary."

He says nothing, just watches me for a moment. I can feel his reluctance to drop the subject, but he does, saying simply, "Your turn."

After a few more hours of questioning each other, I've learned a lot about Scorpius. He hates peas, he's helping his father take over the family business—i.e., being a Hogwarts governor, investing in stuff, things like that—and his greatest hope is to have a large family, to make up for being an only child ("And just _who_ do you plan on having all these kids with?" I ask him teasingly). Likewise, he learns of my hopes to become a Healer, though admittedly, the hope is a mild one. I reluctantly inform him of my lost years, immediately after Hogwarts, in which I spent most of my time flitting from job to job, just trying to earn my keep. Mum always insisted I didn't need to pay rent, but I felt guilty about living under their roof when I was a working adult and fully capable of doing so. Surprisingly, he asks about my penchant for food-Quidditch, and we both laugh as I share with him the strange habit I've picked up. I also tell him about my deep love for music, art, and literature.

It's well after midnight by the time we decide we should probably turn in. It's funny how comfortable it is now. The last few nights, I've felt extremely awkward and self-conscious about sleeping in the same bed as him. But now, as he crawls in beside me, I find myself smiling at him.

"Good night, Scorpius," I say pleasantly.

"Good night," he smiles back, and he turns the light off with his wand.

As the room is plunged into darkness, I lie on my back, ready for sleep to claim me. Inevitably, I find myself wide awake the moment my head hits the pillow. A few minutes later, I hear Scorpius' breathing become slow and even, and it's combined with his quiet snoring. Carefully, I roll on my side, and watch him. My eyes have adjusted somewhat, so I can just make out his face. Just like this morning, he looks so peaceful. No walls, no pretenses. Just Scorpius.

And as I watch him, I come to an unsettling realization: it would be so easy to fall for Scorpius. Effortless, really. I haven't reached that point yet, but I hope someday that I will, and that he can find it in him to love me, too. For now, though, I think I'll be content to just get to know him. With this thought, I smile, and drift off to sleep.

* * *

><p>AN: PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW! :D


	8. Expression

A/N: Just so you know, there's some mentioning of real celebrities, and some mild bashing of one in particular. Nothing big, just showing a general dislike of this certain celebrity's work. If you like said celebrity, please don't flame me. You're free to have your opinion, just as I'm free to have mine. You don't like it, just ignore it and move on. It's that simple!

Ahem. Anyways, read on! And don't forget to review! (I'll remind you.)

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><p>"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."<p>

-Dr. Seuss

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><p>The rest of the summer passes uneventfully. After much cajoling and reasoning, Dad manages to convince Gran that a party isn't the best idea. Granddad helps with that as well, pointing out that I must be feeling down after the Zabini debacle. Eventually, she agrees, placated by the knowledge that she'll see us at Christmas.<p>

Mercifully, we don't have any more balls or parties for a while, giving me some time to relax and familiarize myself with my new home. Scorpius is gone almost every day, from nine in the morning until almost five o'clock in the evening, busy helping his father with... whatever business it is that he does. Stocks, shares, profit margins... it's all Gobbledygook to me. I don't bother trying to understand. Less headaches that way.

During our evenings together, we talk and learn more about each other. He asks me question after question about my family, trying desperately to remember all the names. Eventually, he gives up, resigning himself to the fact that it will probably take years before he reaches that goal. I ask questions about his family, too, but to my surprise, he's reluctant to answer them. Once, I subtly pose a question about his grandmother—just wondering what she was like—and he stiffens up and awkwardly changes the subject to the Holyhead Harpies. I decide that this particular subject is best left alone, for the time being at least.

In late August, I begin my healing school... and quit in the same week. Yeah, that dream isn't happening. I can barely handle a drop of blood from a paper cut, much less a gaping wound in someone's forehead, or burns all over their body, or some rare, incurable disease or mental disability or... well... it's just not happening.

Instead, I content myself with just wandering around the house, or stopping into the music room. The sweet sound of the piano keeps me occupied, and clears my mind of whatever day-to-day drama I may encounter.

As September rolls in, I don my oldest jeans and T-shirt, and lug several paint cans I've recently purchased into the music room, along with all the appropriate brushes, and tarps to cover the instruments and the floor. Once everything is in the center of the room and protected by the tarps, I set to work on the corners. I hum to myself as I go along, which soon turns to full-on singing, which then makes me realize it's way too quiet.

"Gabby!"

With a pop, the house-elf appears. "Yes, Young Mistress?"

"Do you know if there is an... electronic music-playing device around here?" I phrase my request carefully.

To my surprise, the elf nods. "Oh, yes! In Master's old room! Does Young Mistress want Gabby to fetch it for her?"

"If you would," I grin. "Thanks so much!"

Moments later, Gabby returns, carrying just what the Healer ordered: a portable stereo. I thank her profusely, then check it for batteries. Though the necessary batteries are in place, they must be dead, because turning the stereo on produces no result. Using a charm that Lily taught me, I replenish the batteries, and switch the radio to a popular station. I smile as one of my favorite songs echoes off the bare walls, and get back to painting.

As I paint and sing, and occasionally dance, I lose track of time. Several good songs have come on, along with the usual commercials, and in the midst of a ballad by Adele, a voice says, "Having fun, are we?"

"GAH!" I scream, jerking around quickly. In the process, some of the paint splatters on the intruder's clothes. A moment later, I realize that it's Scorpius.

"Nice aim," he deadpans.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" I moan, dropping the brush and rushing forward. I fumble around for my wand, eventually locating it, and with a quick, "Scourgify," his clothes are clean again. My face could fry an egg, I'm sure, as I smile apologetically. "Oops."

Scorpius just laughs. "Don't worry. That's why we have magic."

"I suppose that's true. Still, I am sorry."

He shrugs, tossing me a smile, before glancing around the room. "So what exactly inspired this project?"

"Er... boredom," I answer honestly. "Plus, it didn't look very good before."

"You know, there are spells for that," he teases.

I narrow my eyes into a glare. "I know that," I retort, "but I felt like doing it myself."

"Ah," he grins. "Translation: you forgot."

"Shall I paint on you again?" I threaten him, wielding my brush.

"I'll pass, thanks."

"Uh-huh. That's what I thought."

"But if you give me a moment to change, I'd be happy to help you."

My eyes widen. "Really?"

"Sure. You look like you could use the company. Or is Adele and her broken heart sufficing for the moment?" he adds with a smirk.

I'm even more surprised by this. "You know Adele?"

"Come on, Rose," he teases, "give me _some_ credit!"

Before I can say anything else, he disappears, as always. I glance at the radio, from which the melancholy strains of "Turning Tables" are still emanating. Smiling slightly, I resume painting, and singing.

When Scorpius returns, I do not jump again. Nor do I freeze up and stare at him for a moment in his tight jeans and even tighter white muscle-tank (cough). It shows off every ripple and bump of his chest, back, and abs, and of course, his arms are fully exposed and right in front of my face. For a split second, I allow myself to watch his sinewy form, before I snap back to reality, and continue painting.

A few seconds later, the song changes to Rebecca Black, and Scorpius and I groan in unison, both turning to scowl at the stereo. I lunge for the stereo and quickly change the station, eventually landing on one that's playing classic oldies. I grin as "Knock Three Times" echoes in the room.

"Much better," Scorpius sighs, and I laugh softly as we start painting again.

"So what made you decide to listen to Muggle music?" I ask curiously.

"Believe it or not, my father got me into it," he tells me.

I smile with pleasant surprise. "Really?"

He nods. "He said that he'd spent his whole life assuming that Muggles were inferior to wizards, and that nothing in their world was worth his time. But when he started picking up the piano, he really started exploring their music, and incorporated much of it into our daily lives, until..." he trails off, and he stops painting, his arm frozen in midair. Scorpius grimaces briefly, then shakes his head. "Well... anyway, he stopped playing, and... I kind of stopped listening to music."

Involuntarily, I let out a gasp. "_How_ can you stop listening to _music?_" I ask breathily, my eyes wide.

He shrugs. "I just never felt like it."

I shake my head, dropping the brush next to the paint can. "But music is such a beautiful and emotional way of expression! Beethoven himself said, 'Music is a higher revelation than all wisdom and philosophy.' And I think music is far more powerful and, well, _magical_, than even magic itself!" My veins are flowing with adrenaline as my speech becomes more and more impassioned. "It's the truest, purest form of communication, expressing feelings in a way that no amount of words could ever accomplish. And it can also _inspire_ emotions! It can calm, it can excite, it can lift your spirits, no matter how far down you are!"

By the time I finish, Scorpius' hands have fallen limp at his sides, and he's staring at me with the oddest facial expression. It takes me a moment to read his emotions via connection, and I'm all the more confused by the combination of curiosity and sheer wonder that he's unintentionally exhibiting. I frown. "What?"

He says nothing for a moment, then whispers, "How do you do it?"

My frown deepens. "Do what?"

"How do can you be so passionate about... well... everything?"

Despite the seriousness of his question, I smirk. "Not everything. Remember, I did quit Healing school."

Scorpius laughs quietly. "Yes, but everything else. Music, family, life... you have this unbridled fervor for all of it, and you never hesitate to make it known." He gazes at me for a moment, then asks, "Don't you ever fear that someone will try and tell you you're wrong? That it's all just a bunch of silly, trivial nonsense?"

I consider this for a moment, chewing on my bottom lip, then with a smile, I shrug one shoulder. "Not really. Because even if they did... why should I care what they think? I know who I am, and I know how I want to be, and that's enough. As long as I stay true to myself, I don't care what anyone else says. 'Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind,'" I quote with another smile, picking up my brush again.

He doesn't say anything else, but follows suit and continues to help me paint. The work is long and arduous, but made fun by exchanging conversation, and singing with the radio. By late that night, we manage to finish two of the four walls, and end up speckled with paint ourselves. After taking turns showering, we both get into bed, tired and sore from the strenuous labor.

Just before I surrender to sleep, I feel a feather-light touch on the exposed skin of my upper arm. It moves slowly up, pushing some of my hair back from my face. At first, I'm tempted to speak, but I decide against it, reasoning that he might stop, or make some perfectly rational but still obviously untrue justification for his actions. I take a moment to control my emotions, choosing instead to focus on the sensation of his touch. It's gentle and cautious, like he's _afraid_ to touch me. And there's still that sense of wonder and admiration, and a thirst to know more. _I'll tell you anything_, I say to him silently.

"You matter to me, Rose," he whispers, and then withdraws his hand, leaving a cool, yet somehow burning trail where his fingers have grazed my skin.

A moment later, I hear his breathing become slow and even, and I open my eyes to make sure he's really asleep. Even through the thick darkness, I can see his peaceful expression, the serenity of his subconscious state. I smile to myself, and carefully scoot closer.

As I feel sleep beginning to drag me under, I sigh, "You matter to me too, Scorpius."

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><p>AN: Sorry about the shortness, but tell me, what do you think? **REVIEW!** (Told you I'd remind you.)


	9. Weaslification

A/N: And now, the passage of time, yada, yada, yada, nothing important happened in October or November, so... on to Christmas! :D

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><p>"Christmas at my house is always at least six or seven times more pleasant than anywhere else. We start drinking early, and while everyone else is seeing only one Santa Claus, we'll be seeing six or seven."<p>

-W.C. Fields

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><p>"Will you stop fussing, Scorpius?" I chuckle. "You look <em>fine!<em>"

"I'm completely overdressed," he grumbles, loosening his tie. "Why didn't you tell me this was casual?"

"It's Christmas Eve at the Burrow. I thought it was obvious."

"Well, every Christmas event I've gone to in my life has been coat and tie. How was I supposed to know your family didn't follow the same protocol?"

"Because we're Weasleys. We _never_ follow protocol."

He groans, then eventually just pulls the tie off altogether, shoving it into his coat pocket. "Stupid damn tie."

"Scorpius, why are you so upset?" I ask.

"I'm not upset."

I roll my eyes. "Oh, we're not going to do this little dance again, are we? Last time, we ended up not speaking, and I nearly got harassed by a douche bag more than twice my age."

The corner of his mouth twitches upward briefly in humor, but then he becomes serious again. "I'm not upset, I'm just..." he groans. "I don't know _what_ I am."

"Well... judging by what you're projecting, I'd guess nervous, terrified, and uncertain of what to expect."

"Stop that," he scowls. "It's not fair that you use your ability to read my emotions against me."

"You can feel mine too," I point out.

"But I don't know what they are half the time because I'm _rubbish_ at emotions. And _don't_ tell me," he interrupts me as I open my mouth to speak, "that if I'd show my emotions more often, I'd be better. Believe me, I heard you the first hundred times."

I purse my lips. "But clearly you didn't _listen_."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I sigh. "Let's not get into this right now." Pulling out my wand, I transfigure his suit and dress shirt into khaki pants and a navy blue long-sleeved polo. His coat isn't so bad, but I turn the tie into a scarf to make it a bit more casual.

"Thanks," he mumbles curtly.

"Sure," I respond in a similar tone. "Now can we _please_ go in?"

He doesn't answer, but steps forward and knocks on the door. A moment later, Gran appears wearing her usual bright green dress and red apron, her eyes crinkling as she smiles. "There you are! Come in, come in! It's _Rose!_" she shouts back into the house, and I hear a chorus of excited yells. I step in ahead of Scorpius, bracing myself for the inevitable impact.

A moment later, a bright red fireball shoots toward me, latching itself onto me. "Oh, Rosie! I missed you!"

I chuckle, hugging the fireball back. "Hey, Lils. Merry Christmas!"

"Scorpius!" the nineteen-year-old lets go of me, then squeezes Scorpius with all her might. His face turns pink, and his eyes widen comically. I cough to hide a laugh, which he doesn't miss, and shoots a glare in my direction. "I didn't get a chance to tell you this before, but welcome to the family! We're all so glad to have you! It's about time Rose found a guy!"

"_Lily_," I mutter warningly.

"What?" she shrugs, releasing Scorpius and bouncing into the living room.

I turn to Scorpius, who is standing completely still, and very stiff. "What... the... hell?" he asks quietly.

"Lily," I reply, shaking my head. "You get used to it after a while."

Cautiously, we make our way into the magically-expanded living room, which is now roughly the size of the Transfiguration classroom at Hogwarts. Several couches and chairs line the walls, and of course, a brilliant fire is crackling in the fireplace. In the far corner stands a tall Christmas tree, decorated with popcorn, tinsel, the standard lights, and also many pictures of me and my cousins throughout the years. I make a mental note to keep Scorpius _away_ from that tree at all costs.

As we enter, everyone turns and shouts various forms of each of our names. I smile at them all, waving my hello, then, spotting two open seats next to Albus, I steer Scorpius in that direction. On the way, though, we're stopped by my uncle George.

"Rosie-Posie, it's utterly _crackin'_ to see you!" he slurs, his smile far to wide to be inspired simply by happiness.

"Well, I see you got a head start on the firewhisky, George," I say with a grin.

He doesn't hear me, and moves to Scorpius. "Scorp-O!" he beams. "Welcome to the Wheeze-nee family!"

Scorpius tosses a frightened glance at me. "Erm... thanks?"

"Okay, George," I step in, "we're just gonna find a seat, and maybe you should switch to water now."

"I'm not as think as you drunk I am!" he shouts accusingly.

At last, we manage to reach Albus, who jumps up and hugs me. "About time, Rosie!" he says into my hair. "Where've you been?"

"For heaven's sake, we're not _that_ late!" I roll my eyes, then change the subject with a smile. "By the way, you were right; I ended up quitting Healing school."

He laughs. "Figured you wouldn't last long in there. You go ballistic when you scrape your _knee_."

"Hey, now, make nice," I glare at him playfully, swatting his arm.

Still laughing, he asks, "So what are you going to do now?"

"Haven't figured that out yet," I shrug. "I'll find something, I'm sure."

"I'm sure," he agrees, then moves on from me. "Scorpius!" he greets cheerfully. "It's good to see you again!"

"You as well," Scorpius gives him a tight smile. "Merry Christmas."

"Hope your life's been less exciting since last time I saw you," Albus says, tossing a teasing wink in my direction.

Thankfully, rather than tensing up, Scorpius laughs. "Relatively so. We've been avoiding balls for the most part."

"Always a good idea," Albus grins.

The conversation picks up from there, remaining light and happy. The only slightly uncomfortable moment is when Victoire asks me, with a saucy wink, how I'm liking married life. I feel my face burn with mortification, but I merely answer that it's fine, and turn to talk to Lucy instead.

Finally, Gran's voice can be heard from the kitchen, "Dinner's ready!"

Scorpius moves to stand up, but I put a hand on his arm, shaking my head at his questioning look. "Not yet."

At that moment, everyone jumps to their feet, scrambling for the kitchen—which will also be magically enlarged—and nearly trampling each other in the process. Scorpius looks on in blatant disbelief and horror. Then he turns to me. "Thanks for that."

"No problem," I laugh "It's probably safe now."

Slowly, we amble into the kitchen, and I can see Scorpius' shock as well as I can feel it. His eyes travel over the long table, which bears three turkeys, two hams, several different forms of potatoes, dumplings, vegetables, fruitcake, and countless pies. I smile up at him, leading him toward a pair of empty seats.

Once everyone is seated, Gran says, "All right, everyone, tuck in!"

As per tradition, two dozen pairs of hands reach forward and take as much food as possible. Unable to keep from smirking, I help Scorpius fill up his plate, having the reflexes one needs to do so before all the food is gone.

Conversation mixes in with the sounds of chewing and cutlery, to which I usually tend to _listen_, more than actually participating. I share a smile with Scorpius as we overhear a lively debate between James and Fred about which pranks are best used in the toilet, while simultaneously, Lily and Lucy are discussing the latest winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award—Ryan something-or-other. Nearly every topic under the sun is discussed at this table, all within the space of a few hours.

Unfortunately, my skill at avoiding conversations comes to a halt when Gran asks me loudly, so as to quiet the rest of the table, "So Rosie, when can I expect to see some grandchildren out of you?"

Several things happen at once. First, everyone else in the room goes deathly silent, staring at me with eager interest—or disgust, in my father's case. Then, as I fully process Gran's question, the mouthful of potatoes I've been eating shoots to the back of my throat, causing me to cough uncontrollably. Scorpius jumps in, carefully and gently patting my back and rubbing circles over it to help me. I glance up at my mum, conveying to her with my eyes my desire for her to _save me_.

Thank Merlin, she, being Mum, understands immediately. "Oh, Molly," she says with a light laugh, "they've only been married for a few months! Give them time to adjust to their new lives before they start popping out babies!"

Gran bristles. "Rubbish! Arthur and I were only married three weeks before I found out I was expecting Bill!"

"Dear," Granddad blushes, "I don't think that was something they needed to hear."

"Definitely not," Dad groans, looking sick.

"Well, I think it's a perfectly reasonable question to ask!"

Ginny rolls her eyes. "Of course _you_ do, Mum."

"And why should I think otherwise, _Ginevra_?" she demands sternly. "After all, they are married now. Presumably they're doing what married couples do!"

"Okay!" I half-shout, my cheeks flaming. "Let's change the subject!"

"I agree!" Albus chimes in on my behalf, shooting me a smile. "With all due respect, Gran, I think I speak for everyone here when I say none of us really want to hear about Rose and Scorp's personal life. And it's obvious they'd rather not talk about it. So can we just let this topic pass, and enjoy the rest of Christmas dinner?"

Reluctantly, Gran agrees, and the conversation resumes, though far more quiet and subdued than before. I mouth "Thank you" to Al, who grins and shrugs, before he turns to talk to James.

The rest of the night is the usual Christmas chaos; George and James both end up completely pissed (much to the chagrin of Gran and Ginny), and begin dancing on the coffee table, singing a song entitled "Weasley is our King," very loudly and off-key (much to my father's chagrin). Lily and Lucy giggle incessantly in a corner, looking at pictures of all the _Witch Weekly_ beaus (I hope Scorpius isn't in there), while Victoire and Roxy sob together over the excitement and stress of being with child. Percy and Audrey sit in a corner, watching the spectacle with disgust and boredom, before soon announcing their departure (despite Lucy's protests). Harry, Charlie, Bill, and Louis are talking Quidditch, safely in the kitchen, far from the bedlam in the living room. Dom wanders aimlessly about with a drink in her hand, appearing neither sober nor extremely drunk. Gran and Granddad are sitting by the fire, Granddad awkwardly patting Gran's back while she sobs some nonsense about how nice it is to be with family at this time of year. Albus, Scorpius, and I stand in a corner, gazing on with both amusement and apprehension, while Karen Carpenter sings "There's no place like home for the holidays" from the wireless. Oh, the irony.

Around eleven o'clock, I lean toward Scorpius, standing on my toes to reach his ear, and whisper, "Ready to go?"

"Dear God, _yes_," he murmurs in response, making me giggle.

After saying goodbye to Mum and Dad, we apparate back to the Manor. Once in the safety of our own house, Scorpius heaves a sigh. I laugh at him, putting an arm around him. "Congratulations," I say quietly, "you're officially a Weasley."

"Yippee," he drones uncertainly.

Still laughing, I guide him toward the stairs, so he can relax and contemplate his recent Weaslification.

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><p>AN: So there's the Weasley dinner. Next comes Christmas morning, and a little surprise. ;) Thanks for reading! PLEASE REVIEW!


	10. Gifts

A/N: Thank you SO MUCH to all you reviewers! You're awesome! Anyways, here's Christmas Day for the Malfoys! WARNING: Emotional roller coaster ahead! Get a box of tissues before you read, just in case! ;)

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><p>"The more and more I spend time with you, the more and more I realize I am doing the one thing I told myself I would never do... fall in love."<p>

–Anonymous

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><p>"Rose. Rose, wake up."<p>

"Mmph," I moan into my pillow, rolling over to escape the nagging voice and the hand that is now prodding me in the back. "Go 'way."

The voice laughs. "All right, I guess I can just leave you to spend Christmas morning alone in bed."

Instantly, I wake up, flopping back to my other side, grinning up at Scorpius. "It's Christmas!"

He gasps in mock surprise. "_No!_ Really?"

I scowl at him, but can't keep a little smile off my face. "Great, my sarcasm's rubbed off on you. _Now_ how are we supposed to communicate effectively?"

Scorpius rolls his eyes. "Come on, up."

Mimicking his action, I do as he says, pausing in momentary surprise to see that, for the first time, his hair is still mussed and he's in pajamas. I've never seen him _awake_ in his pajamas. Well, not in the morning, anyway.

Frowning at my scrutiny, he asks, "What?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. Let's go!"

He leads me down to the elegant sitting room, where one of many trees has been set up, the smallest in the house (though even this one is seven feet), my own personal touch obvious. The boughs are decorated with little twinkling lights of various hues, with glittering snowflake ornaments, as well as the traditional glass orbs, placed here and there among the shimmering, silver tinsel. Atop the tree is a bright star, which glistens and gleams over us. I smile at it, before turning my eyes to the pile of colorfully wrapped presents, resting neatly beneath the tree.

Without waiting, I plop myself unceremoniously onto the floor beside them, while Scorpius gracefully lowers himself into a sitting position (it's just not fair). He grins at me, then reaches under the green boughs to pull out the box nearest to him. "To Rose," he reads the tag aloud, handing it to me, then he gets one for himself.

About thirty minutes later, all our gifts are opened and have been placed neatly on some nearby tables, thanks to Tilly and Gabby. I'm surprised to see Scorpius give them gifts, as well, and I hold my breath, hoping it's not clothes. To my relief and even greater surprise, the presents are not so offensive; he gives Tilly an egg-timer, and Gabby receives a bizarre sort of tool that I don't recognize, but she's delighted with anyway. I don't bother to hide a snicker as Scorpius unwraps his Weasley sweater—forest green with a silver "S" on the front. He seems touched by Gran's sentiments, but makes no move to put it on.

Now, all that remains are our gifts for each other. I nervously hand him his, not sure how he'll take it. He does likewise, and instructs me to open mine first. I consider protesting, but my curiosity prevails, and I gently untie the ribbon, and lift the lid of the small box. I gasp aloud as I see what's nestled inside the box.

"Oh, Scorpius..."

Gingerly, I lift the delicate silver chain, which bears a sapphire pendant, encased in an intricate design of thin silver loops and swirls. It's not overly large, but certainly not small, either, and it's obviously very expensive. I have to remind myself that price is not an issue anymore, and allow myself to admire its beauty.

"You like it then?" he asks me.

I sigh, turning my eyes to him. "It's beautiful," I breathe. "Thank you."

He grins, shrugging like it's not a big deal, but I think I see his cheeks turn a little pink. Smiling to myself with humor, my eyes fall to the haphazardly wrapped package in his hands—_my_ gift to him. Instantly, a wave of disappointment washes over me, and I find myself wishing I'd found something more... well... something better than what I did find.

Scorpius' brow furrows. "Rose? What's the matter?"

Knowing I can't lie to him—stupid connection—I merely sigh again. "It's just... you got me the most amazing gift, and... mine's just... well, it's nothing compared to _this_," I hold up the necklace.

He lifts an eyebrow, seeming unconvinced, but says nothing, and instead turns his attention to the gift, slowly unwrapping it. I vacillate between the urge to get up and run and the desire to see his reaction, eventually deciding that I'd rather know now how much he hates it. I chew anxiously on my lip, taking slow, careful breaths.

Finally, he opens the thin box, and stops. He stares. I struggle to read some sort of emotion from him, but there's none. That's almost _worse_ than the dissatisfaction I was expecting.

"I told you it was horrible," I whisper, and my eyes begin to sting.

"Rose," he shakes his head, and I watch him gently lift the worn, wrinkled pages from the box. I watch his eyes travel over the intricate and difficult phrases on the first page, then to the title, then the name beneath said title: N. Malfoy. I'm not sure who that is, but obviously it's some relative of his. I hoped, when I found the music gathering dust beneath a cello in a forgotten corner of the music room, that it would mean something to him. But clearly I was mistaken.

"You don't have to keep it," I insist, "I just thought... well, it has the name Malfoy on it, and though I don't know who N. Malfoy was, I thought you... but if you want, you can just throw it away, and I'll—"

I stop mid-sentence as he looks up at me, and finally, I can feel his reaction—and I can even see it. As his eyes meet mine, wide and shining with unshed tears, I feel a sweet warmth erupting in my stomach, and my throat tightens. The strength of his gratitude and emotion takes my breath for a moment, and suddenly, _I'm_ the one in tears. A moment later, a brilliant smile spreads across his face, and he closes the distance between us, pulling me into a hug.

"Oh, Rose," he murmurs in my ear, and I feel a shiver that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room. "I love it. Thank you so much."

Sniffling, I hug him back. "You're welcome." He smiles at me as we pull out of the embrace, which I return with my own watery grin. Curious again, I ask, "So who _is_ N. Malfoy, anyway?"

He bites his lip, and a strange mix of sadness, sentimentality, and curiosity swirls in my chest. "Narcissa. She was my grandmother," he clarifies. "I knew she played, she was the one who taught Dad, but... I didn't realize she _composed_, too..."

For a moment, I feel incredibly stupid; how could I have not known that the "N" stood for Narcissa? Way to be the second-brightest witch of the age, Rose. But as this realization sets in, a memory flashes in my mind, one of a stout, heavily-perfumed beautician, professing some rather surprising opinions. Monica said that I could be good for Scorpius. _He's been so solemn ever since his grandmother died..._

More than ever, I want to know more about this, to know why the death of Narcissa Malfoy inspired such grief in her son, and grandson, that it would change them so explicitly. I recall my resignation to leave this subject untouched, but it becomes difficult as my curiosity burns? What _really_ happened to Narcissa, and to her family? Is it a simple matter of mourning the loss of a loved one? Or is there more to it than that? I have a feeling it's the latter.

"Rose?"

I jump at the sound of his voice, trying to ignore the incessant pooling of warmth beneath my skin. "Yes?"

He looks at me nervously for a moment. "Would... would you play it for me?"

At once, I am both terrified and flattered. "Oh... er... well, I haven't practiced it, I only just found... erm..." I trail off, seeing the hopeful look on his face, and I give a small, acquiescing smile. "I'll give it a try."

Scorpius jumps up, grabbing my hand and all but dragging me to the music room. As we enter, he leads me to the piano, and spreads the music out in front of me. He has to switch a few pages around, but soon, he stops, stepping back into the crook of the piano's body, watching me. I clear my throat anxiously, then turn my eyes to the music. It's an incredibly complex melody, with lots of jumps and stretches. I look over the whole song a few times, before gently placing my fingers on the keys and cautiously coaxing the melody from them. I have to stop a few times throughout the piece, just to get my bearings. But eventually, I make it to the end, until I reach the last note, a high B-flat, held on its own, sweet and soft and poignant.

When I glance up at Scorpius, I have to fight against a gasp. His eyes are firmly shut, his lashes darkened with the tears that flow down his cheeks, and his lower lip trembles ever so slightly. I must have been so focused on the song that I didn't notice his change in emotion. I can feel it now, though; a bittersweet remembrance, and a painful longing so intense that it nearly knocks the wind out of me. No wonder he can't hold back the tears.

Cautiously, I rise from the bench and walk to him, putting a hand on his face. He takes in a sharp breath, but otherwise doesn't acknowledge my presence. Not one to back down, I lift the other hand, placing it against his other cheek, so I'm cupping his face. "Scorpius?" I breathe. "Please look at me."

After a moment, his eyes open. They're so raw with emotion that it almost sends me staggering backward, but I stay put, steadily meeting his gaze.

"It sounds like her," he whispers at last.

I smile sadly, and use my thumb to catch a tear. "Then she was very beautiful."

He exhales shakily. "Inside and out."

"You loved her very much," I observe.

His eyes close again for a minute, and he says, "More than anything. She was my confidant, my best friend, my comforter. And when Grandfather died... I became hers. We relied on each other, until..." His words are swallowed by a sob that shakes his entire body, and I lean forward, wrapping my arms around him. As he weeps into my hair, I feel myself crying with him—damn estrogen!—and clinging to him almost as tightly as he does to me.

I half expect him to pull away abruptly, and mutter some nonsense about dust in his eye, or allergies, but he makes no such movements or excuses. He just holds me, and lets me hold him. Once, I make a move to step back, but his arms tighten at my waist, and he whispers frantically, "Please don't go. I don't... want to be alone."

Shocked, I can do nothing but submit, and remain wrapped in his embrace. We stand for several long minutes—perhaps even hours—before finally, he seems to have regained control of himself. Though his eyes are red-rimmed and swollen, he seems... somehow more at ease, peaceful. I guess silently that his tears must have been something he's held in for a very long time, and that this was a much-needed release from the turmoil locked in his heart.

"Feel better?" I ask, then kick myself internally. _Feel better? Merlin, Rose, what are you, his mother? Asking how he feels after scraping his knee? Stupid!_

He smiles, the faintest hint of humor dancing in his eyes. "Much better," he nods. "Thank you, Rose."

My usual blush spreads across my face—and beyond, since that's my luck—and I try to give a half-hearted shrug. "It's nothing, really."

"No," he whispers, his eyes locking with mine. "It's definitely not nothing."

I just stare back at him, unable to form a coherent sentence in my mind, let alone attempt to speak. An inexplicable feeling of desire and warmth envelops me, and I draw a trembling breath. Scorpius' eyes flicker to my lips, and they darken as the same desire billows within him—and, by extension, _me_. He licks his lips, drawing my eyes to them, and I'm dimly aware that our bodies are growing closer. His breath fans out across my face, smelling vaguely of cinnamon toothpaste, and my mouth goes dry. I swallow hard as my pulse drums a wild, erratic rhythm in my ears.

"Rose," he murmurs, and that simple act of saying my name is what sends me over the edge.

Without a thought, I grab him by the back of his head, my fingers knotting in his platinum locks, and pull him down for a kiss. Scorpius groans, and the sound sends a delightful shiver down my spine, urging me closer. His hands find my waist, gently caressing at first, then pulling me tightly against him.

For a while, we stand there, exploring each other's mouths with our tongues. At one point, Scorpius' tongue grazes my bottom lip, then he sucks it in and gently nibbles it, causing an involuntary moan to erupt from my throat. He inhales sharply, and kisses me even more firmly, our teeth knocking against each other, and his hands curl into fists around the fabric of my shirt. I press myself closer to him, every inch of my body touching his, indirectly. Simultaneously, we seem to have an unspoken agreement that the clothes on our bodies are just plain _in the way_. His hands reach beneath my shirt, tracing sensuous patterns on the bare skin of my back, while I slide mine under his, raking my fingers across his (perfect, taut, _amazing_) abs.

Suddenly, my knees weaken, and I nearly collapse. Taking the initiative, Scorpius carefully lowers me to the floor, where we both slide beneath the piano. His lips only leave mine long enough for him to remove my shirt, and for me to discard his. In less than a minute, we also manage to rid ourselves of the remaining impediments, and are at last exposed, skin against skin.

Scorpius' lips move across my cheek, along my jaw line, to the base of my throat, where he begins sucking and nibbling, and I let out a whimpering moan. It escalates to a cry of sheer ecstasy as he enters me with one great thrust. My head spins as he repeats the action, and I arch toward him, grinding my hips into his. "Harder," I implore in a husky murmur; he complies eagerly, eliciting a shout from me with every plunge.

As our passion slows, he withdraws from me, and presses a light kiss on my lips before laying beside me. Neither of us dares make a sound, save for our panted breaths, for a long time. After a while, though, I can no longer remain silent. Quietly, curiously, I ask, "Where did _that_ come from?"

He exhales slowly. "I have no idea."

"It was..."

"Incredible," he finishes for me.

I grin. "Yes, it was."

Scorpius turns his head toward me, and I do the same, meeting his eyes. He reaches out a hand, tenderly brushing a damp, red curl off my face. "You are so beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes full of the same wonder I can feel emanating from him.

My face flushes, and I avert my eyes. "I'm not, really."

"You _are_," he insists. "Rose... you are quite possible the most beautiful person I have ever met. You... you amaze me."

I look at him again, my heart racing, and I swallow thickly at the unmasked fervor and adoration in his eyes. If I weren't already lying down, I'd probably collapse from the dizzy excitement and wondrous rapture. At that moment, something hits me, and although part of me insists that it's dangerous, that I shouldn't allow it, a bigger part of me squashes that part, and lets the danger in, lets it swallow me whole. And I smile, despite myself, as this realization rolls around in my brain a while, and then, as it settles and registers completely, my smile widens.

Scorpius eyes me quizzically. "What is it?"

Not wanting to spoil the perfect moment, I simply shake my head. "Nothing," I tell him, still smiling. "I just... I'm happy."

He grins. "So am I."

Impetuously, I roll onto my side, intent on closing the distance between us. Guessing my train of thought, Scorpius does the same, one arm wrapping around my waist, while the other hand caresses my cheek. We meet in the middle, and share a gentle, yet wonderfully passionate kiss. That familiar, tingly warmth spreads through me, and once again, I smile against his lips, recalling my discovery. As our ardor slowly increases, building to another climax, I find myself repeating the words over and over in my head, thus assuring myself of their absolute truth:

_I'm in love with Scorpius._

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><p>AN: Yaaaay! They got some action! ;D And, _YAAAAAAAAY!_ She's finally realized she loves him! The question is, when will Scorpius come to the same conclusion? Thank you all again for your patience and your reviews! Loves!


	11. Revelation

A/N: Let's have a party! :D

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><p>"Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt."<p>

–William Shakespeare

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><p>We make love a further three times throughout the day. Once more beneath the piano, once in our bedroom, and once when I'm trying to take a shower. After this occurrence, I (reluctantly) tell him that he needs to get ready in a different room—an entirely different wing of the house, preferably—or we'll never make it to Harry's dinner party on time.<p>

"Fine by me," he retorts cheekily. "Parties are overrated."

"Hmm, tempting," I glare at him playfully, "but we really do have to go."

He feigns disappointment, heaving an exaggerated sigh. "_Fine_," he drawls, dragging his feet out of the bathroom, but not before glancing over his shoulder for one last peek at me in my towel. I give him a look, then wave my hand as if to shoo him away. He pouts, but I fold my arms, tapping my foot impatiently. With another morose sigh, he leaves.

I shake my head, chuckling to myself, then I look at my reflection.

_Oh, shit!_

On my shoulder... the left side of my neck... and rather conspicuously on my right breast... lays the evidence of my numerous trysts with my husband. I gingerly put a finger to each of the purplish marks, and my face glows with a deep blush.

Cautiously, I peek into the bedroom, relieved to see that Scorpius has left. I get dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, then race down the hall to the study. Again, I take a careful peek, before ascertaining that he's not there, and I head straight for the fireplace. Tossing some floo powder in, I say, "Monica's Salon," and step through the flames.

At first glance, it appears to be a typical salon, but I notice the lack of awkward, helmet-like hair dryers, and also the potion bottles in place of standard shampoos and conditioners. A moment later, Monica herself appears, and grins.

"Why, Rose Malfoy! This is a surprise!"

I smile at her. "Hello, Monica. It's nice to see you again."

"You as well!" She ignores my outstretched hand and pulls me into a tight, perfume-y hug. When she pulls away, she asks, "What can I do for you, dear?"

Blushing again, I gingerly pull at the neck of my shirt, revealing the purple hickey at the base of my throat, then further to show the one on my shoulder (I decide that she doesn't need to see the one on my chest).

She smirks. "Well, looks like things between you and Scorpy are speeding up."

My blush darkens, and I ignore her comment. "I'm going to a party tonight, and I need these to be gone, or at least covered up. Is that possible?"

"Of course, dear, but you shouldn't be ashamed of having a healthy sex life."

I look pointedly at the floor. "You don't know my family. They'll either become murderous, or they'll tease me until I'm an inch away from throwing myself off a building in shame."

Monica chuckles, shaking her head. "Well, all right then, let me see..." She takes another look at each bruise, then saunters over to one of her many potion cabinets, rummaging through them until she finds a small, glass jar. "My special paste. Gets rid of bruises, hickeys, welts, and even certain bug bites."

Taking the jar, I attempt to reach for the few galleons I shoved into my pocket, but she shakes her head, holding up a hand. "It's part of the tab, dear. Your family has a payment plan with me. This is included."

Feeling uncomfortable, I simply nod. "Well... thanks. I'll just... be off then."

She gives me another knowing smirk, before I turn to the fireplace and floo back to the Manor. I sprint down the hall as covertly as possible, stopping only when I've reached the bathroom. Immediately, I remove my shirt and bra, generously applying the paste to each mark. A cool, tickling sensation permeates my skin, and I watch in awe as each blemish fades away, leaving no trace whatsoever. Satisfied, I place the jar on the counter, and focus on my hair.

After trying a few different styles, I settle on a messy bun, with a few curly tendrils hanging loose, and I add a black flower clip, just for fun. Then I move on to makeup. I apply foundation first, which doesn't really cover the freckles, but it does make them stick out a little less. After that, I use the technique Dom showed me, and create the "smoky eye" look with my eye shadow. Finally, with a touch of eye liner and mascara, I lean back and smile at the finished product.

I hurry to my dressing room, and quickly don the dress I picked out days ago. It's a knee-length black halter, with a plunging neckline and a deep back. I know Dad will have an aneurism when he sees it, but I can't bring myself to care... especially after the events of this morning.

My stomach flutters and my face warms at the thought, and I can't help but smile as vivid memories of Scorpius' lovemaking fill my very being. I force myself not to melt into a puddle of mush, reminding myself that we _have_ to go to this party tonight.

Slipping on a pair of strappy heels, I make my way down the stairs. Scorpius is, of course, waiting at the bottom, looking very sharp in his classic coat and tie, holding his overcoat and mine draped over his arm. I slowly descend the stairs, and he looks up, his eyes darkening with poorly concealed lust as he sees me. The combination of that look and the fire of longing transferring from him to me through our connection makes me slightly dizzy, and I take slow, calculated breaths, forcing myself to focus on not tripping and falling down the stairs.

After a moment, I say, "We'd better go, we don't want to be late for the party."

"Party?" he mumbles distractedly.

I laugh quietly. "My uncle's Christmas party," I remind him.

He suddenly closes his eyes, and lets out a groan. "You did this on purpose."

"Did what?" I ask with feigned innocence.

At this, he opens his eyes again, glaring at me, though the effect is lessened greatly by the desire dancing within them. "Fine, play dumb, but I swear, if your father or any of your uncles murder me for ravishing you, it'll be on _your_ conscience."

"Duly noted," I smirk. "Shall we?"

He heaves a sigh, then tears his eyes away from me. "If we must," he grumbles, albeit good-naturedly, and hands me my coat. Once we're appropriately bundled up, he takes my hand, and we apparate to Harry's house.

As expected, the party is set up in the massive backyard, with a tent and countless heating and wind-resisting charms. A path lined with white twinkle lights leads the way first to a massive, ornate Christmas tree, then to the tent's entrance. Inside, a piano plays itself, filling the space with the classic carols, both wizard and Muggle.

Gran is the first to greet us as we enter, hugging me, then Scorpius, and then rather awkwardly grabbing both of us, squeezing tightly. Granddad follows close behind, giving me a quick kiss on the top of my head, and shaking Scorpius' hand. We are similarly greeted by the rest of my family, hugs and kisses and handshakes, until at last, we reach our seats at one of the many small, round tables, along with Albus, Lily, Teddy, and Victoire.

As my eyes land on Victoire, she gives me a look that can only be classified as _lewd_. Merlin, am I that obvious? Despite the blush playing on my cheeks, I shake my head, hoping she'll leave it alone. She does, thank heavens.

"Merry Christmas, Rosie," Al says jovially, moving to sit on my right. He wraps his arm around me in a quick hug.

Suddenly, I feel a wave of... _jealousy?_ I glance at Scorpius, who is giving Al his (and Dad's) annoyed look. Inadvertently, my mouth drops open in abrupt comprehension. He sees this, and though I can't exactly see his blush in the dim lighting, I can feel his embarrassment, and an unspoken request to save the conversation until we were back at home. Nodding almost imperceptibly, I turn my attention back to Al.

"Merry Christmas, Al," I reply, grinning mischievously. "Did you get my present?"

He rolls his eyes. "Yes, I got it. Don't you think we're both a little old for this silly game, Rose? We _are_ twenty-one, you know."

I gasp in mock offense. "Why, Albus Severus! Are you trying to tell me that you _don't like_ your multicolored daisy petals? I am appalled!"

"Do you hear yourself?" he asks through a laugh.

"Wait, did you say _daisy petals?_" Scorpius cuts in.

Still laughing, Al turns to him. "One Christmas when we were kids, I gave rose a box full of daisies that I had picked from my mum's garden, but right before I gave it to her, James got to it—"

"Oh, you're still sticking with that story?" I tease, poking him in the ribs.

"Yes, because it's _true!_ Anyway, he put some kind of spell on it as a joke, and when Rose opened the box, thousands of multicolored daisy petals came shooting out, and latching themselves to her hair, her clothes, and the floor immediately around her."

I give an exaggerated shudder. "It was like being eaten alive by a rainbow."

Scorpius laughs aloud. "I wish I could have seen that!" _Traitor_.

"I couldn't breathe, I was laughing so hard. Of course, Rose, with her rather, um... _violent_ temper, swore from that day on she would take her revenge on me every Christmas." He shakes his head morosely. "She hasn't missed one yet."

Smirking, I say matter-of-factly, "I have excellent commitment."

"Everyone, if I could have your attention please!" a voice says. The chattering stops almost immediately, and we all turn to see Harry standing, holding a glass of what looks like champagne. "In honor of this wonderful holiday, in my opinion the best day of the year, I'd like to propose a toast. To the joy and love of family."

It's much simpler than his usual toast, but no less moving. I smile and raise my own glass, and the rest of the family does likewise. We chant, "To family!" and everyone takes a long drink. Just as I set my glass down, James hops onto his chair, shouting, "_L'chaim!_" until said chair topples over, and he falls with a loud thud. We laugh at his misfortune for a moment—and of course, so does he—until, much like at Hogwarts, food magically appears on our plates.

"Well, that's a new one," Al mutters, and we chortle quietly as we begin eating.

Throughout dinner, many toasts are made by various family members. Teddy toasts Victoire in a rather sappy display. Granddad takes a leaf from Harry's book, adding a second toast to family, particularly to Victoire and Roxy, both heavily pregnant. Fred and James stand together, toasting good booze and live entertainment (and in turn, each receives a smack on the head from their mothers).

None of this is surprising, but what _does_ come as a shock is Scorpius turning to me and saying, "You should play something on the piano."

Before I can protest, Lily pipes in. "You play the piano, Rosie? I didn't know that!"

"Neither did I," Al says, clearly surprised.

I want to slap Scorpius for the smug satisfaction he feels from knowing something that Al doesn't. "Yes, she does. Incredibly well, in fact."

"Scorpius, what are you doing?" I hiss.

He shrugs. "I was going to say something earlier, as soon as I saw the piano, but I thought it'd be best to wait until after dinner." His smirk grows. "It's after dinner."

"Scorpius—" I say warningly, but I'm interrupted as he suddenly stands up, clearing his throat.

"Everyone! Rose would like to play a little something for you on the piano!"

The effect is instantaneous; a chatter rivaling that of the students at Hogwarts rises up amongst my family members. Those who didn't know of my talent till now—in other words, everyone except Scorpius, Mum, Dad, and Hugo—start whispering in shock, while my parents eagerly encourage it.

"Go on, Rose!" Dad shouts, beaming from ear to ear.

Sensing a losing battle, I turn to Scorpius, giving him my best menacing glare. "You are _so_ getting it when we get home."

"I consider myself warned," he smirks.

Growling softly under my breath, I stalk over to the piano, which stops playing itself in anticipation of having an actual person perform on it. In a traditional routine, I sit on the bench, reverently placing my hands on the keys and closing my eyes, feeling the potential for music, before I actually begin playing.

I choose "Claire de Lune," this being the first song that pops into my head, and one of my best pieces. Despite the fact that every member of my family is currently staring at me, I find it surprisingly easy to forget them, and to focus on the melody and contrasting dissonance of the song. I sway with each movement, allowing the music to fill my being, and I'm barely conscious of the smile that has appeared on my face. As I draw near the close of the song, I slow, stretching it out as long as I can. With the last note hanging in the air, I take a deep breath, riding on the natural high that song always gives me.

Then, I'm startled back into reality as a strange sound reaches my ears. Glancing around, I remember where I am, and who is watching. And they're all standing... and applauding. They're applauding _me_. My performance. Mum and Gran have tears streaming down their cheeks. Dad looks a little misty-eyed himself, but he's doing a better job at controlling himself. Al looks astonished, but excited, as does nearly everyone else. Only Hugo looks bored, which I imagine is because he's heard me practicing far more than anyone else, except perhaps my parents. And Scorpius is beaming, positively _glowing_ with pride and affection.

For some reason, this affects me more than anyone else's reaction, excitement and a smidgen of pride in myself bubbling inside me. I slowly rise from the bench, and lower my head in a subtle bow. Grinning, I take one more look at my audience, head spinning with the exhilaration and sheer joy that currently threatens to consume me. I'm almost moved to tears myself as a shocking realization comes to me. Oh, how could I have missed it? How did I not see it before?

_This_ is what I'm meant to be. What I'm meant to _do_. This is who I am.

As the applause dies down, I make my way back to Scorpius, giving him a hug. "Go ahead and say it," I whisper in his ear.

"Say what?"

"'I told you so,'" I provide, rolling my eyes and waiting for the inevitable.

With a quiet chuckle, he pulls back, looking me in the eye. "I wouldn't dream of it," he murmurs, and leans forward, pressing a tender kiss to my lips. I pointedly ignore the whoops and catcalls, choosing instead to focus on the kiss (or, more accurately, on _not_ knocking it up to NC-17).

Suddenly, a loud shriek pierces the air, and we pull apart to see whose it was. At that moment, Teddy shoots to his feet, face white. Victoire, on the other hand, is red as a beet, and writhing in obvious discomfort. _Oh, no_.

"The babies!" she pants. "They're coming!"

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry, I know it's been forever! Blame work and an extreme lack of sleep. Oh, and a rather unexpected lack of inspiration. I'd been staring at a half-finished version of this chapter, trying to figure out what should come next, until I remembered that I'd made Rose a pianist. Once again, lack of sleep, caused me to forget my own dang _story_. Well, here's the much-awaited chapter. I'll try to get the next one up soon!

_**PLEASE REVIEW!**_


	12. Confessions

A/N: This is kind of a slow chapter at first, but it's EXTREMELY important, because it answers some of the questions asked in earlier chapters. Enjoy!

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><p><em>Hold my breath as you're moving in<em>  
><em>Taste your lips and feel your skin<br>When the time comes, baby, don't run  
>Just kiss me slowly<em>

–"Kiss Me Slowly," by Parachute

* * *

><p>The following morning, a loud tapping wakes me from a contented sleep. Taking care not to wake Scorpius, I walk over to the window, where Pigwidgeon, the family owl (since poor Errol passed a few years ago), is waiting to deliver a message. Yawning, I let him in, and grab hold of him before he can zoom carelessly about the room, like usual, and take the small scroll from his talon.<p>

I have to stifle an excited giggle as I read the note, written in Gran's handwriting: _Remus Arthur Lupin, born at 2:49 AM on December 26, 6 lbs 13 oz., and Angelique Marie Lupin, born 2:57 AM, 6 lbs 7 oz. Victoire and twins are doing fine_. Rolled up inside the note is a Polaroid (bless Mum for showing Granddad how to use a camera) of said newborn twins, side by side.

Giving Pig a few crackers to munch on, I grab a scrap of paper and a pen, scribbling down a note for Teddy and Victoire.

_Congratulations! I got the picture from Gran. They're beautiful! Scorpius and I will come by this afternoon to see you and the babies. Love, Rose._

"Here you go, Pig," I whisper to the tiny owl, giving him the note. "Take this to Teddy, okay?" He gave a quiet hoot, then zoomed back out the window. I closed it softly, watching as he became no more than a dot against the clouded light of the winter morning sky.

I walk over to the bed, gently crawling up to Scorpius' sleeping figure and tapping him on the shoulder. This has absolutely no effect, other than to elicit a groan from him. "Scorp," I whisper. He groans again. "Scorpius, wake up," I try again, louder this time. Another groan. Rolling my eyes, I shift my hair so that it all falls down the right side of my head, before bending down and tenderly kissing the side of Scorpius' face. Just as I expected, he gives a happy grunt, and begins turning his face toward mine, obviously seeking a real kiss.

_Nice try._

"Good morning, sleepyhead," I smile as his eyes flicker open.

"Hey," he grins back. "Where's my good morning kiss?"

I roll my eyes, choosing to ignore his question, and I show him the picture. "Remus and Angelique Lupin," I announce with a grin. "I just got this from Gran."

Scorpius gives a tired smile. "They're cute. How's Victoire?"

"Good, I suppose." I lean closer. "Would you mind going to see them today?"

His brow furrows. "Now?"

"No, not now," I shake my head impatiently. "Sometime this afternoon."

"Sure," he says through a yawn.

Delighted, I grant him another kiss on the cheek. Before I can move away, though, his hand comes behind my head, pulling me down until my lips meet his. My insides tingle and my toes curl as his mouth explores mine, and I completely forget that I probably have morning breath. (Of course, he _doesn't_. Seriously. Nothing in my life is fair.) When his hands move beneath my T-shirt, all thoughts of Victoire and her new baby fly out the window, and I surrender to the pleasures he's offering me.

* * *

><p>The maternity ward of St. Mungo's is quiet—at least in the hallway. They must have lots of silencing charms set up to keep out the sound of babies (and mothers) crying and screaming. Scorpius and I walk hand-in-hand to the end of the hallway, stopping at room 429. The sign to the left of the door reads <em>Victoire Lupin<em>.

"Must be the place," Scorpius grins.

"Shall we?"

He replies by pulling open the door, ushering me inside. As soon as I enter, Teddy gives me a hug. "There you are, Rosie! We were expecting you much earlier!"

I toss a disparaging glare to Scorpius, who merely smirks. "Yes, well... some of us had trouble getting out of bed this morning." Translation: Scorpius couldn't keep his ruddy hands off me long enough for us to get dressed and ready until _noon_. Not that I'm complaining.

At Teddy's curious look, Scorpius shrugs. "I'm not much of a morning person."

That's an outright lie; he's usually up hours before me, but that's nothing they need to know about.

"I hear you," Teddy grins, then leads us further into the room. Victoire is lying in her bed, holding a blue-wrapped bundle, cooing softly. She looks up and smiles as we come closer, her eyes glistening with happy tears. In a small, hospital-provided crib on the other side of the bed, lies a tiny _pink_-wrapped bundle.

Grinning, I walk up to Victoire, putting my arm around her and gazing down at her newborn son. He snuggles against his mother, giving a tiny yawn. I smile. "Hi there, Remus," I say quietly. "It's your Auntie Rose. Just wanted to meet you before your parents had the chance to tell you all kinds of little lies about me."

Victoire rolls her eyes. "Funny, Rose."

"I do try," I smirk, then I glance at the little girl lying peacefully in the crib. "Mind if I hold her?" I ask, nodding my head in her direction.

"Go ahead," she says.

I make my way over to her, gently lifting her and cradling her in my arms. She starts to wiggle a bit, and the little hat that she was wearing falls off her head, revealing a surprisingly full head of purplish hair. I glance at Teddy. "Yep. She's yours."

He chuckles quietly, his eyes gleaming with pride beneath his too-long, turquoise-ish fringe. "Earlier today, it was neon green. Poor Fleur nearly had a heart attack."

"I'll bet," I snigger, then turn to Scorpius, who has moved to stand behind me. "Isn't she beautiful?"

Scorpius smiles softly. "Yeah, she's cute."

"Want to hold her?"

His expression sobers abruptly, and he takes a step away. "Er... I don't..."

"Come on," I coax. "You've held a baby before, haven't you?"

"No," he says bluntly.

I'm shocked for a moment, until I remember that his family is very different from mine, and he's probably never even seen a baby this close. I smile up at him, and say, "Well, now's your chance. Trust me, it's worth it."

"Erm..." he attempts to protest, but before he can say anything else, I hand little Angelique to him. I guide his arms into the proper baby-holding position, one arm supporting her head, the other cradling her from beneath. As soon as she's settled, he stops, staring down at her with a mixture of awe and adoration. Slowly, a smile spreads across his face.

"She's so light," he whispers, then looks up at me. "You're sure I won't break her?"

I laugh softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Not unless you drop her, which I'm sure you won't."

His eyes return to the sleeping infant. "I hope not."

"Don't worry," I assure him.

Scorpius doesn't acknowledge my comment, for he has obviously fallen in love with the little girl in his arms. She snuggles against his chest, one arm breaking free from the confines of the blanket and waving around. With a smile, I gently touch my index finger to her closed fist. Instinctively, she grabs my finger, holding it tightly. As she does, a strange and completely foreign ache develops in my chest, and in my lower stomach. At first, I wonder if it's coming from Scorpius, but he's obviously lost in his quiet happiness. And even more confusing is the way that ache suddenly doubles as I look at my husband. Only then am I able to decipher what it is.

I want this. I want to be a mother. And as I continue to gaze at Scorpius, who is smiling down at Angelique, I realize that I want it now.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day passes in relative silence. We come back from the hospital just in time for dinner, and we eat without saying a word to each other. Afterward, Scorpius announces he has to "run to work for a few hours." I go to the music room, hoping to calm my nerves a bit with some piano playing. For the first time, it doesn't help. Frustrated, I pound my fists on the keys, before leaving the room. I consider going into the library and finding a book, but I know I won't be able to concentrate on that, either. So I go to our bathroom, shower, change into my pajamas, and sit on the bed, waiting for Scorpius' return.<p>

I hear his footsteps coming down the hall around nine o'clock, and I quickly grab a Quidditch magazine from the pile on his bedside table, flipping through it to make it look like I've been reading. I blush as I realize the magazine is upside down, and I turn it around just in time for Scorpius to enter the room.

Looking up at him, I ask, "How was work?"

If the tension weren't so ridiculously palpable, one or both of us might have laughed at the absurdity of the situation. However, as it is, he simply gives a distracted shrug before moving into the bathroom to shower himself. I try to concentrate on the article in the magazine—it's about Viktor Krum, _gag me_—but my attempts are futile, as my mind spins with images of Scorpius naked and soaking wet.

_Stop it!_

Even more frustrated and angry with myself, I toss the magazine aside, curling up in the blankets and pretending to be asleep. Scorpius comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, and I force myself to keep my eyes firmly closed. After a moment, he crawls into bed beside me, and turns the lights off. I try desperately not to read too much into Scorpius' torrent of emotions—at the forefront of which is reluctance to speak—while also hoping that his lack of emotional understanding is preventing him from realizing what _I_ am feeling.

That desire for motherhood I felt at the hospital has yet to fade. In fact, it has grown immeasurably stronger, for a number of reasons. First, because we're in bed, an ideal place for consummation and, ultimately, conception. Second, after a mental calculation, I've deduced that now is just the right time in my menstrual schedule for said conception. And third, because he's just showered and he smells _so damn good_.

_Fuck._

"I've never thought about being a parent," Scorpius says suddenly. I freeze; does he want me to reply? My question is answered as he goes on. "I mean, I knew it would happen eventually, but... I never really thought of it as something that I _wanted_."

My insides turn to ice. So he did feel my baby-hunger. And now he's taking it upon himself to shoot that idea down.

Then, he says so quietly that I almost miss it, "Until today."

I swallow thickly, my eyes opening at this. Slowly, I roll onto my back, still afraid to actually look at him. "Same here," I whisper.

The relief that floods him—and me—is as tangible as the tension that has now been erased. I smile to myself, glad that he and I are on the same page. But I can tell he has more to say. I take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze of encouragement. He takes a moment to form his words, then he speaks again.

"That jealousy you picked up on before... I can't help but feel that whenever I see you with Albus. I've never had a close family relationship like that, someone who knows me as well as I know them. And, erm..." He trails off, obviously conflicted, but eventually, he continues. "I envy him for how well he knows you, specifically. I don't know why. I guess I just... feel like I'm supposed to know you best, being married to you and whatnot. But I hardly know you at all."

Unable to keep a smirk off my face, I say, "Well, I wouldn't say that. You certainly know my body better than anyone else. _Especially_ Albus."

He laughs softly. "I hope he doesn't know your body."

"I think he knows about the scar on my knee that I got from falling out of a tree, but other than that, it's a mystery to him."

"Good."

Taking a moment to breathe, I decide it's time for me to make a confession of my own. "You remind me of my dad, you know."

His head turns to me. "How so?"

Biting my lip, I muster the courage to go on. "Just little expressions. Like when you get annoyed." Facing him, I smile slightly. "When you're annoyed, your face looks almost devoid of expression, except for the eyebrow." Tenderly, I lift a hand and touch said eyebrow. "I see that brow, and I know you're not so indifferent."

As if to prove my point, the last—and my personal favorite—of my father's faces appears on his. The corners of his lips just barely quirk up, while his eyes shine with glowing happiness. And if that weren't enough proof, the bliss pooling up in my chest certainly is.

"That's another one," I whisper. "You're happy, now."

Now, he full-on smiles. That bliss grows into complete and utter joy, and—dare I say it?—_love_. Part of me wants to rejoice at this, but I force myself to leave it alone. He might not be feeling the same kind of love. Maybe he loves me like a best friend. A best friend he's repeatedly shagging. It could happen. Or maybe that's not really _his_ love I'm feeling, just my own.

He silences my thoughts unknowingly as he draws me close and presses a kiss to my lips. I forget all about my dad's expressions, about Teddy and Victoire, about the twins, about ovulation schedules, about everything except the delicious man lying beside me. Gradually, our kisses become more intense, and I feel his warm hand on the bare skin of my stomach. That hand curls around the waistband of my flannel trousers, tugging gently, while one finger grazes the most sensitive area. Knowing he can feel my excitement—in more ways than one—I ignore the blush that seems to have taken up permanent residence in my cheeks and kiss him with even greater fervor. He lets out a growl, using his other hand to completely remove my clothes, and moves on top of me in the same movement.

My body seems to shake with eager anticipation, and I spread my legs, giving him easier access. He fumbles with his own clothes, until I take pity on him and help out, effortlessly discarding the unwanted impediments, leaving only the warm, sticky, highly-charged air between us. Moments later, that minor hindrance is eliminated, and he finds his way inside me.

It's nothing like the last several times, where our passion was fast and intense. This time, it's slow, sweet, and sensuous. We take our time, reveling in every little touch and kiss. At the end, we lie in each other's arms, my back against his chest, while his fingers trace patterns on my stomach. It's both arousing and soothing at once, and I smile, closing my eyes and falling into the sensation of his touch. All too soon, I feel myself slipping out of consciousness and into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.

* * *

><p><em>(Victoire POV)<em>

"Are they both asleep?" Teddy asks as he comes back into the room.

"Yeah," I nod, yawning. "I'm not so bright-eyed myself."

He smiles, wrapping his arms around me. "You were amazing today, babe."

"You mean between all the screaming and profanity and accusing you of ruining my life, I actually did something good?"

"Nothing you do could ever be bad," he insists, kissing my forehead.

I can't help but laugh quietly. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

After a while, a thought occurs to me, not for the first time. As casually as possible, I broach the subject to my husband. "It was nice to see Rose today."

"Yeah, it was."

Grinning, I add, "She and Scorpius seem to be warming up to each other."

Teddy snickers. "Good, I'm not the only one who noticed. All that rubbish about not being a morning person. _Please_." We laugh together for a moment, then he asks quietly, "Did you notice the look on Rose's face?"

My smile widens; _of course_ I noticed. It was an exact reflection of how I felt when Teddy and I decided we were ready to start a family. That sweet ache, that tender longing, the desire to feel that indescribable love that only comes when entering motherhood. And now, having felt that love for myself, I know that it's worth all the pain and vomiting and hormonal changes.

"Yes," I answer his question. "I saw it."

"What exactly was that?"

I shake my head, knowing my attempts to explain the term "baby-hungry" to him would be futile. "It's a girl thing, love," I say dismissively, kissing his cheek.

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><p>AN: Aww! So cute! Who else thinks so? Review, please!


	13. Different

A/N: Barkeep! Another chapter, please! ;D We're back to Rose's POV in this one, and it'll probably stay there. We'll see if I change my mind. Enjoy!

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><p>"Love is an unconditional commitment to an imperfect person."<p>

-Selwyn Hughes

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><p>"Rose! Have you seen my cummerbund?"<p>

Inside my dressing room, I roll my eyes, and call back, "Try the music room!"

"Why would it be there?"

I smirk at my reflection. "Because that's the last place you took it off, perhaps?"

A pause, then, "Don't you mean _you_ took it off?"

"Potato, po-_tah_-to."

"Uh-huh. Well, I'll give it a look."

I nod to myself, then return to my previous task of gathering my hair up into a curly bun. I leave a few strands out to frame my face, and a couple of loose tendrils in the back as well, just to give it that devil-may-care look. Once that's finished, I move on to examine the plethora of fine gowns in my possession, searching for the perfect dress to wear.

Tonight is the Ministry of Magic's New Years' Eve Ball, the biggest social event of the year. So naturally, the Malfoys—_all_ of us—are required to make an appearance. More than that, we'll have to stay until a little after midnight, just long enough to ring in the new year and shake some very important hands. I'd rather not go, especially since no one in my family is going to be there (the Weasleys celebrate the new year in a _very_ different way), but as I'm now a Malfoy, I'm required to be there. And I have to look _absolutely perfect_.

Finally, I settle on a deep blue, empire-waist, off-shoulder gown, with an indecently deep neckline. I feel another smirk on my face as I imagine Scorpius' face when he sees how little will be left to the imagination. Giggling softly to myself, I drape the dress over my arm, moving to the undergarments section of the room. In the back of one of the drawers is something I've always known was there, but never thought I'd actually _want_ to wear it, much less find the occasion for it. But this is the perfect dress, the perfect occasion, and I'm ready to do it.

Still giggling, I open the drawer, and retrieve the black, padded push-up bra. It's not the most comfortable, but it certainly does what the name implies. My chest looks almost a whole cup-size bigger.

Poor Scorpius won't know what hit him. Ha!

Once clad in the appropriate (or _in_appropriate) undergarments, I do a quick makeup spell that Victoire taught me, adding just enough to enhance my features, while still looking natural. Then, very carefully, I slip into the dress, adjusting it here and there so that it fits just right.

"Rose, are you..."

I turn to see Scorpius standing in the doorway, leaning in slightly, his hand on the frame. His eyes glaze over and his jaw falls open as he sees me. I'm not entirely sure if the mass of butterflies in my stomach is coming from him, or from me. Both, perhaps. All I know is that I've never felt so beautiful in my life.

After a moment, he shakes his head, blinking hard. "Well..." he says, his voice a little shaky, "I was going to ask if you were decent, but it is completely _in_decent for you to look so..."

"Tempting?" I guess.

"I was thinking _edible_, but sure, we'll go with that."

Smiling, I walk toward him, the fabric of the dress whispering across the carpet. "If you're a good boy tonight, perhaps I'll grant you some... dessert."

He draws a shuddering breath, his eyes closing. "You're actually _trying_ to kill me, aren't you?"

"Now, what good would that do me? Not only would I have lost my husband, but my life would become infinitely less amusing without you."

When he opens his eyes, he glares at me, though the lust still shines through. "Very funny," he deadpans. "Are you ready then?"

"Ready," I nod, taking his arm. He stares at me for a moment, then squeezes his eyes shut once again. I wait for the pull of apparition, but it doesn't come, and I look at my husband. "Um... Scorpius?"

"Give me a minute," he says, his voice a bit coarse, with unmistakable lust.

I smirk. "You know, there is always the option of not going."

He sighs. "I wish we didn't have to."

Nodding, I throw in the inevitable, "But...?"

"But," he agrees, opening his eyes, but staring straight ahead, "this is a crucial event for my family. If we want to get back into the Ministry's good books, we've got to be there, and we've got to stick around for a while."

"I know," I say gently. "And they _will_ be impressed, don't you worry. I'll make sure of that."

He grins, then takes a steadying breath. "All right... let's do this."

And with a crack, we disappear.

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><p>The ball is just what I expected: lavish décor, packed with Ministry officials, serving butterbeer, firewhiskey, and several types of Muggle alcohol (bless our world for going pro-Muggle after the war). Smooth jazz music emanates from an unknown source, giving the place a sultry feel, despite the more classical, formal appearance of both the guests and the ballroom. Though I've never been good at playing jazz music, I've always loved listening to it, and I find myself smiling as I hear it playing.<p>

We've not gone five steps into the room before Scorpius is twirling me around and whisking me away onto the dance floor. As he pulls me close, his eyes dancing, as light as his feet, I throw back my head and laugh. Neither of us will be winning any trophies for dance, but it's a lot of fun. I suppose that's what really counts.

After a few moments, more couples join us, and laughter echoes in the vast hall. It makes me think, maybe we Malfoys aren't frowned upon as we thought. At the very least, people still recognize us as important and influential, a family to be admired, and followed.

"Looks like we're doing well," I say to Scorpius. "We've started a trend."

He grins. "So it seems."

As the song draws to a close, he releases my hand, putting his on my back and leading me over to a group of stuffy-looking men. I shake their hands, wowing them with my fabulous flair and dazzling wit. I'm really not a boastful person, honest; but watching their reactions, and feeling Scorpius' reaction as well, I know I'm fast becoming the belle of the ball.

When we've greeted and well-wished just about everyone here, Scorpius takes me back out to the dance floor for a slow song. He draws me close, his arms around my waist, while I clasp my hands behind his neck.

"You're amazing, Rose. Really, you're charming their bloody socks off."

"Is that what that smell is?" I quip.

He laughs, his eyes twinkling, then his gaze becomes intense. "You're charming your husband, as well," he murmurs, his voice husky.

"Easy there, Sparky," I tease him with a wink. "We are in public, after all."

"To hell with them," he growled. "I want you _now_."

I laugh, leaning closer to him. "Later, I promise, you can have every bit of me."

"I'm holding you to that."

A hand appears on Scorpius' shoulder, and I'm surprised to see his father smiling cordially at us. "Mind if I cut in, son?"

"Er... no, go ahead," he says, just as puzzled as I am. I glance at him, and he shrugs his shoulders, before walking off the dance floor. Remembering to be polite, I allow Draco to put his hand on my waist, and take my other hand in his.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Rose?" he asks.

"Yes, actually," I say. "It's been a successful evening so far."

He smiles. "I'm afraid we've put quite a lot on your shoulders with this marriage. I'd like to apologize for that."

I return his smile. "It's all right. I really don't mind. In fact," I admit, "I'm kind of enjoying it."

"Are you?" he asks with genuine surprise.

"Yeah. I mean, it's nothing like the parties I'm used to, but I feel like... I'm fitting in better than I thought I would."

"You are," he agrees. "Absolutely."

We dance in silence for a few minutes, and my eyes wander. I spy Scorpius standing not far away, looking right at us. He smiles as our eyes meet, and I grin back at him, feeling warmth and happiness in myself, _and _in him.

"I want to thank you, Rose," Draco says suddenly.

_That was unexpected. _"Oh?" I ask, my eyebrows raising. "What for?"

"For whatever you did to Scorpius to make him so... open. So carefree." He shakes his head. "He's never been like this, not even before..." Draco trails off, and I silently finish the sentence for him. _Before his grandmother died_. Everything that went awry in their family seems to revolve around that one specific event. _Why?_

"I wasn't aware that I'd done anything," I shrug.

"Oh, but you have," he insists. "Ever since you came into our house, our lives, he's been noticeably happier. He sings. He _whistles_. I even spotted him dancing like a buffoon in his office one morning."

I snort a laugh. "Please tell me you have pictures."

He grins. "You've changed him. I don't know how, but you've managed to do what his mother and I could never accomplish."

Uncomfortable, I glance down, before saying firmly, "I'd like to think I've done nothing more than to show him how to be himself, the person he _really_ is. That in and of itself is no great miracle. It's simply my duty as his wife."

"You're wise beyond your years, Rose," he compliments me. "No wonder Scorpius cares so much about you."

I flush, fighting a grin. "Thank you."

The song ends, and he steps away from me. "Thank _you_, Rose."

Draco moves to walk away, but I call after him, stopping him. "May I ask you... a rather personal question?" His brow furrows, but he nods. My heart pounds, and I consider backing down, but my curiosity will not be ignored. Taking a breath, I ask meekly, "Why did you stop playing? The piano, I mean."

He stiffens, and his face becomes rigid. "That _is_ a personal question."

I bite my lip. "I just... wanted to know."

"It's perfectly all right, but this is neither the time or place," he said formally.

"I understand."

Without another word, he stalks off the dance floor. He passes a puzzled Scorpius on his way, who immediately pulls me toward the edge of the room. "What was that all about?" he asked under his breath.

"I... asked him a question."

He arched one eyebrow. "What question was that?"

"Why he stopped playing."

The other eyebrow flew up, as his eyes grew wide. "Wow. No wonder he's all stiff."

I look down. "Ugh... me and my big mouth."

Scorpius chuckles, sliding a hand under my chin and lifting my face. "I'm sure he's fine. He's like me; he's not used to people asking him about personal matters."

"You Malfoy men," I roll my eyes, "so afraid of emotions!"

"Hey, now," he protests lightly. "I think I've been doing pretty good at opening up."

I grin. "Yes, you have. You're _very_ good at opening up my legs."

"No, love," he smirks, "that's all you."

"Uh-huh."

He laughs quietly, then deftly changes the subject. "Are you thirsty?"

"A little," I admit.

"I'll grab us some champagne."

I watch him walk away with the smile still on my face. He approaches the bar, giving his order to the bartender, then turns around and winks at me.

"You, my dear, look positively _bored_," a sickeningly familiar voice drawls near my ear. I fight a grimace as I turn to see Blaise Zabini.

"On the contrary," I say coolly, "I'm having a rather excellent evening."

"You can drop the act with me, darling," he smirks. "I won't judge you."

"I feel so much better," I snap, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

"So," he continues, oblivious, "have you had a chance to reconsider my... _offer?_" His eyes spark with mischief and lust as he speaks the last word.

Without missing a beat, I counter, "The term 'reconsider' would imply that I actually considered it in the first place, so I'll have to say no."

"Come now," he chuckles. "I know you can't be satisfied with young Malfoy there."

I smirk at him. "What makes you so sure?"

His composure slips for a split second, then he sneers. "You're joking."

"I assure you I'm not."

"Rose, my love, I admire your sense of loyalty, but be serious."

"I'm quite serious."

"You can't possibly—"

"Mr. Zabini," I interrupt him, getting more annoyed by the second. "Let me make this as transparently clear as possible. I love Scorpius. I'm very happy with him, far happier than I could by with anyone else. And even if I didn't, I would never," I drop my voice to a low, threatening whisper, "_never_ sink to your disgusting, pitiful level. You're a sick, hideous, lowlife piece of scum, and I don't have even a Knut's worth of interest in you, so I would greatly appreciate it if you'd _leave me the fuck alone_."

Whatever reaction I might have expected from him, it certainly wasn't anything close to what he actually does. As soon as the last words have escaped my lips, too quiet for anyone else to hear, he grips my upper arms so tightly that I soon feel the loss of circulation. "You will treat me with respect!" he hisses.

"I'll give you the respect you deserve!" I shoot back. "Which is _none!_"

His grip tightens. "Filthy, half-blood wench!"

"Let go of me!"

"You'll regret this, you little whore!"

Suddenly, a hand pulls Zabini off of me, and I barely have the time to register that it's Scorpius before he throws a punch in the older man's face. Blood gushes out of his nose, but that doesn't stop him from retaliating; he swings his fist, and I gasp as it collides with Scorpius' eye. He grunts in pain, but recovers quickly, lunging for him and tackling him to the floor.

"Stop it!" I yell, but to no avail. I try louder, "_Stop!_"

Draco swoops in then, pulling his son off Zabini. "Let it go, son," I hear him mutter. "He's not worth it."

But Scorpius isn't finished with him. As his father drags him away, he shouts, "You selfish, disgusting bastard! If you ever come near my family again—"

"What, you'll throw a little tantrum like last time?"

"How _dare_ you!" he screamed. "You sleazy son-of-a—!"

"Enough!" Draco cut in. "Scorpius, take Rose and go home. I'll deal with him."

Reluctantly, he nodded his head, and walked toward me. I took his hand, and we apparated back to the Manor. The air seemed unusually still and silent, after the hubbub at the ball.

"I told you to stay away from him," Scorpius growls.

Stunned, I turn to him. "He came up to _me_, Scorpius, not the other way around."

"You should have just walked away!"

"Oh, like that would have stopped him! The guy's an absolute wank!"

"Exactly! That's why you should have walked away!"

"He would have just followed me! Then what, Scorpius? What would you have me do if he followed me out onto the veranda and started trying to rape me?"

He shudders visibly. "Don't say that."

"I couldn't shake him off! He wouldn't leave me alone! What the hell was I supposed to do, stun him? I don't think that would have attracted the right kind of attention from the Ministry! Everything we'd accomplished would have gone down the drain!"

"Everything we accomplished _has_ gone down the drain! My family is right back where we started, and it's all because of _your_ stupidity!"

Furious, I slap him as hard as I can, then again, just to make sure he's really paying attention. Angry tears begin to form in my eyes, and I want him to see them. It's a bit cruel and underhanded, but I don't care.

"You listen to me, Scorpius Malfoy," I hiss. "That piece of shit was trying to get me to have _sex_ with him. He wanted me to leave you, and go play with him, and I said there wasn't a chance in hell. But the arse wouldn't take no for an answer! So I told him that I loved you, and I was happy, and that I didn't have any interest in him! I thought that would shake him off, but then he grabbed me, and that's when you came over and sucker-punched him! So don't you _dare_ say I was being stupid or that I wasn't trying to get rid of him! I was doing everything _right!_ Damn it, I was trying to help you! I was trying to help our family! And it is _our_ family, now! I'm a Malfoy, too, remember?" I snarl, showing him the ring on my finger. He doesn't respond, just stares vacantly at me. I'm so angry I can't tell what he's feeling past my rage, nor do I particularly care. "I just... I can't even look at you right now," I mutter. "Call me when you're done treating me like shit."

And I disapparate, somehow ending up at my parents' house, in the living room. It's dark and empty, as they've gone to the Burrow for the Weasley celebration. I've always been rather embarrassed by my rambunctious family; for most of my life, I swore that when I grew up, I'd avoid them as much as possible. But as I glance at the clock, and see that it's almost midnight, I find myself longing for the familiarity, the gaiety, the insanity.

Impulsively, I turn to the stairs, and climb up to my bedroom. It's mostly empty, since most of my belongings are now at Malfoy Manor, but the bed is still there, as are my stuffed animals and a few posters. I glance around the familiar room, and shiver from an unexpected chill. Quietly, though I know there's no one around to hear anything, I pull the scarlet and gold quilt from off the bed, wrapping it tightly around me. Then I move to sit in the window seat, gazing out into the night.

And as the clock chimes twelve, signaling the start of a new year, I finally realize what I said to Scorpius.

I said I loved him.

With the last toll, I curl into a ball and cry myself to sleep.

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><p>AN: Long, angsty chapter. But it's an update! :D Remember to leave a review!


	14. Tears

A/N: Here's another! :D You'll get a little taste of Scorpius' POV this chapter, so I hope you enjoy that!

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><p><em>I was serenely independent and content before we met<em>  
><em>Surely I could always be that way again, and yet<br>I've grown accustomed to her looks  
>Accustomed to her voice<br>Accustomed to her face_

–"I've Grown Accustomed to Her Face," from My Fair Lady

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><p>"Rose?"<p>

I moan, feeling myself frown. That voice is familiar... but it's not the one I'm used to hearing in the morning. Slowly, I open my eyes, and I register several things. It's not morning yet—not morning enough to be light out, that is—and I'm not in my room. Well, I am, but it's my _old_ room. I've fallen asleep on the window seat. And the owner of the voice is Albus, who is standing over me with a worried expression on his face. Then, I remember my fight with Scorpius... and I start crying again.

Albus sits beside me and hugs me, rubbing circles in my back. He always has known just how to make me feel better. Then why isn't it working tonight? I sob into his shirt for several minutes, overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions coursing through me, and by the events of the past few hours.

Finally, when I've just about soaked his shirt, I sit up. "Thanks, Al," I mumble, attempting to dry my eyes.

"Rose, what happened?"

I sigh. "It's a long story."

"Well, then you better get on it," he snaps. I stare at him; Albus _never_ snaps. He's almost annoyingly chipper all the time. At my expression, he sighs. "I'm sorry, it's just... Scorpius is really worried about you. He came by the Burrow."

My stomach churns with anger. "Oh," I say lamely.

"_Oh_," he repeats, narrowing his eyes. "That's the best you can come up with? _'Oh'_? The guy's in bad shape, Rose! I've never seen him like this! He was _crying_, for God's sake! And if you know Scorpius, which I'm sure you do, you know it takes a hell of a lot to break him like that!"

He's right; the only time I've seen him cry was on Christmas, when I played the song his grandmother composed. Before that and since, his eyes have been dry.

Until today, apparently.

I fight the guilt that's threatening to take over, remembering that it's Scorpius who's at fault. Taking a breath, I finally say, "We had a fight."

"I guessed as much."

"A really bad fight," I add.

"What about?"

I bite my lip, reluctant to tell him, but the look in his eyes—fierce, frustrated, and determined—tells me I'd better spit it out. "About Blaise Zabini."

He frowns. "Him again?"

"He cornered me, and said some awful things. I tried to get rid of him, but then he got... well... a little rough," I hedge. "Then Scorpius punched him."

Albus barks a laugh at this. "Good for him!"

I roll my eyes. _Men_. "Anyway, when we got back to the Manor, he started... yelling at me. Saying it was my fault for ruining the progress the family's made. And then I, um... I told him what I said to Zabini... and he just stood there. So I left."

"What did you say? What did he say?"

"He was trying to get me in bed with him," I grimace. "Like always."

"Ugh," he matches my tone. "Real piece of work, that guy."

"You have no idea," I groan. "So I told Zabini that I wasn't interested, called him some rather nasty names, and I said... that I love Scorpius, and I'm happy with him."

For the first time that I can remember, Albus is speechless. He stares at me for a long time, before he finally manages to ask, "You love him?" Biting my lip again, I nod. "And... you said that you mentioned this to Scorpius."

Another tear escaped as I whispered, "Yes."

He's quiet for a while, then he exhales slowly. "Well... that explains a lot."

"It does?" I frown.

"The crying, the insistence that we find you. He probably wants to apologize."

Scowling, I mutter, "I'm not interested in his apologies."

"Oh, come on, Rose, give the poor boy some credit. He's sent a patronus to _Kingsley_, for Merlin's sake! He wanted to send the bloody Aurors out to find you, but I told him that wouldn't be necessary."

"Thank you for that," I interjected.

"You have to talk to him," he says bluntly. "Rose, he's not your boyfriend. He's your _husband_. And you love him. You can't just run off every time you disagree, you have to work it out."

I heave a sigh. "I know, I will."

"Now, Rose."

"But—"

"_Now_."

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><p><em>(Scorpius POV)<em>

I'm losing my bloody mind. I run my hands through the tangled mess that is my hair for the millionth time, as I pace frantically about the study.

She's not back yet.

Four hours, and I haven't seen or heard from Rose.

Where the hell could she be? _Damn it!_ I keep wracking my brains for any clue as to her whereabouts, but I can't think of anything. Albus seemed to know where she would be, when I saw him at the Burrow. But he refused to let me come with. So of course, here I am, stuck in this godforsaken Manor, wondering, worrying, asking question after question in my mind.

What if Zabini's found her? What if he's taken her to his place and is now doing unspeakable things to her? Damn it, only _I'm_ allowed to do unspeakable things to her! I'm her _husband_, for Merlin's sake! Or worse... what if she's...

_No! She's alive. She has to be..._

For the second time today, I collapse in a fit of sobs. I sit by the fireplace—empty, save the last few glowing embers—and hold my head in my hands, letting my tears soak the carpet. I never realized how much I'd grown to need her... how much I'd grown to love her. Not until she said she loved me.

_She loves me..._

This thought is the only comfort I find as I wait. And wait. And—

The telltale pop of apparition brings me out of my misery, and I lift my head.

"Rose..."

_She's here!_

Her ocean blue eyes, magnified by her own tears, find mine. "Hi," she breathes.

I don't even stop to think; I leap from my chair and pull her into my arms, squeezing her so tightly, I'm almost afraid I'll break her in half. But she's holding me just as tight, with just as much desperation.

"Merlin, Rose, I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's okay."

"No," I insist, pulling back to look directly at her. "It's not okay. I behaved like a child. I shouldn't have said those things."

She shrugs. "You were upset."

"That's no excuse! I should have been more reasonable!"

"Scorpius, stop," she cuts me off. "I forgive you."

I gaze at her, this beautiful, amazing, wonderful creature that somehow, I've been blessed enough to have in my life. "I don't deserve you," I murmur softly.

She rolls her eyes. "Men always say that."

"I'm serious. You are... I can't even find the words to describe you. You're like an angel... a fiery, beautiful angel sent for me. How I got so lucky, I don't know. But I know I am. I'm lucky every second of the day that I have you with me."

Rose blushes my favorite blush, the one that spreads from her hairline, and creeps across her body. I know she doesn't like it, but I think it makes her look even more beautiful. Warm, and enticing.

"I love you so much," I whisper, so quiet even I can barely hear it.

But Rose hears it. Her eyes widen, and fill with tears. She chews on her lip—Merlin, I love it when she does that—and I feel, through our connection, her relief, happiness, and _love_. An emotion I'm just beginning to recognize.

"I love you too, Sparky," she chokes out.

I grin at the nickname, then bend down to kiss her. Her lips are wet from crying, a little raw from gnawing on them, and so bloody soft... It's her lips that are often my undoing. Her kisses, her smiles, her quick wit, the way she bites it when she's upset or lost in thought... it drives me bloody mad. Which I'm sure she knows.

Little minx.

Knowing I won't be able to stop once I start, I pull back, just to make sure we're on the same page. "I seem to recall you making a promise to me earlier..."

Her eyes sparkle with the memory, and she grins. "Is that so?"

"Mmm," I nod, leaning closer. "You promised I could have every bit of you."

"That was only if you were a good boy," she clarified.

I sigh; of course, I hadn't forgotten that part, but I'd hoped _she_ might. "Yes, I know, I haven't been very good." Then I smirk. "How shall you punish me?"

She giggles, then puts on a mock-serious expression. "Well, you have been a _very_ naughty boy, Sparky..."

"The naughtiest," I egg her on.

"Although you _did_ apologize, quite sincerely I might add," she points out.

"That I did."

She hums lightly as she pretends to consider, and though I know she's toying with me to get a reaction, I can't help but do just that: react. "You're not playing fair."

"Shh!" she frowns, but then she giggles again, her hands moving to my shoulders as she leaned in. "I guess, since you've made an honest effort to make amends, I can overlook your transgressions."

I barely have a second to register this before her lips are on mine. My body responds immediately, and I feel my erection pushing against her thigh. She whimpers, and I know she can feel it too. She whispers my name, and I grasp her roughly, pushing her against the desk. The few miscellaneous items on it clatter to the floor as we take over the surface. Her hips buck as I slide my hand beneath her dress, pushing the skirt up around her waist. I let that hand glide up the inside of her thigh, and stop when I feel her wet, warm arousal. _She loves me_. The joyous thought repeats in my mind as I release my hardened member from the confines of my pants, as I thrust into her, as she screams out in ecstasy.

_She loves me..._

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><p>AN: Aw, Scorpius. :) What did you think? REVIEWS, PLEASE!


	15. Scared

A/N: Another chapter! Damn, I'm on a roll tonight! Here's hoping this lasts! (By the way, we're back to Rose's POV on this one.) :D

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><p>"Love is like water. We can fall in it. We can drown in it. And we can't live without it."<p>

–Anonymous

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><p>As I slowly drift into consciousness, I feel a fluttering in my stomach, and I grin. I glance at Scorpius to make sure he's still asleep, then, carefully, I get out of bed, and tiptoe out of the room. Once I've closed the door quietly behind me, I sprint down the stairs to the kitchen.<p>

Tilly is there, along with Gabby, and to my surprise, Draco.

"Oh!" I exclaim.

"I'm sorry to startle you," he says, but his smirk tells me otherwise.

"Erm..."

"Not particularly loquacious in the mornings, I see."

I frown. "I'm just surprised."

He grins at me. "As am I. My son tells me you have a habit of sleeping in."

My cheeks flame, but I hold my head high. "I do, actually."

"Well, then it stands to reason that I might wonder why you are awake and in the kitchen before the sun is even up."

I bite my lip, deliberating for a moment, then answer, "It's Scorpius' birthday."

Draco lifts an eyebrow. "I'm aware."

"Well... I thought I could... make him breakfast in bed."

He smiles warmly, then turns to Tilly. "Could you make Scorpius and Rose some breakfast—eggs, bacon, perhaps some cinnamon rolls—and take it up to their room. Be sure to knock first," he adds, tossing a saucy wink in my direction, making me blush even darker.

"Yes, Master!" Tilly squeaks.

"Erm... I was going to make it," I mumble.

"Now you don't have to."

I pause, reluctant, but it's clear that my attempts to explain my desire to make my husband's breakfast myself would be futile. So I turn and go back upstairs. When I reach our room, Scorpius is, thankfully, still asleep. I quickly, and quietly, crawl back into bed. Just as I get settled, he stirs, and his arm finds my waist.

"Where'd you go?" he asks, not opening his eyes.

"Had to use the loo," I lie, snuggling against him. "Go back to sleep."

He lets out a blissful hum, pressing his lips to my forehead, then he drifts off. I take a moment to watch him—asleep has always been one of my favorite ways to see him, right after naked—and I smile contentedly. Much as I would have liked to make Scorpius breakfast, I have to admit that I'd rather be in his arms than anywhere else in the world.

Content, I let myself fall back to sleep.

* * *

><p><em>Knock-knock!<em> "Master! Mistress!"

Scorpius groans into my hair, his arms tightening around my waist. "What is it?"

The door opens, and I hear the clinking of plates and cutlery. "Tilly has brought you birthday breakfast!"

I can feel his surprise, and I smile, taking this moment to turn around and meet his eyes. They're wide open, and eyeing me curiously. "Happy birthday, love."

"This is your doing?" he asks.

"Mm-hmm," I nod, then I sit up so I can see Tilly. She grins a crooked, toothy grin, setting a tray of the most delicious-looking cinnamon rolls I've ever seen (don't tell Gran) on the night table. "Thank you, Tilly," I say. "We'll call when we've finished."

She bows, then disappears.

"So," Scorpius drawls, "earlier, when you said you went to use the loo, that was—"

"A complete and utter lie," I finish for him.

"Slippery little minx," he teases me, then kisses me gently. "Thank you."

I grin. "Anything for the birthday boy."

He chuckles, then retrieves the tray, setting on his legs. I reach for a cinnamon roll, but he moves it away. "Who said I was going to share with you?" he winks.

"Well, it _was_ my idea," I glare at him. "I think I at least deserve a cinnamon roll. And a piece of bacon."

Laughing again, he sets it back down. "Okay, I guess you can have some."

"Such generosity."

We eat in relative silence, only speaking when necessary. It's gotten easier to read each other through our connection, and we can often guess what the other is thinking just by our emotions. Beyond that, though, I've picked up on some more of Scorpius' expressions, some that are uniquely him. His little smirk, his "thinking face" (mouth twisted to the side, brow furrowed), every little nuance between them is crystal clear to me. So it's that much easier for me to know what _he's_ thinking.

He hates it. Which, I have to admit, I kind of love.

As soon as we've finished eating, Scorpius calls for Tilly, and she takes the tray back to the kitchen.

"Now," he turns to me, smirking. "I don't believe you've properly wished me a happy birthday yet, Mrs. Malfoy."

Catching on to his train of thought, I loop my leg around his. "Haven't I? How silly of me. Well, I suppose I'll have to make up for lost time."

He laughs and pulls me close, making quick work of my pajamas, while I struggle with his boxers. At last, we've freed each other of our pesky garments, and engage in a fresh, fun round of lovemaking. We're each rather giddy, laughing almost as much as we moan or cry out.

After I've regained the use of my legs, I stumble toward the loo.

"Come back," Scorpius whines.

"I won't be a minute," I call over my shoulder, then slip inside.

As I sit and relieve myself, I glance aimlessly about the room. My eyes land on a box sitting innocently on the counter, its contents familiar to me. Then a thought strikes me, one so terrifying that for several seconds, I stop breathing altogether. I calculate the days in my head numerous times, then check myself just to be sure. A wave of fear washes over me, so intense that my head swims with the enormity of it.

_I'm late._

My hands shake as I force myself to finish the task, flushing and washing up in a horrified daze. An irritating voice in the back of my head taunts, _You wanted this, didn't you? Remember the night after you met Victoire's twins? You and Scorpius both said you wanted to be parents_. I feel sick at the thought, and nearly throw up then and there—not because of... _that_... but because... I changed my mind. I still want to be a mother, yes. But I'm only twenty-one! Scorpius is barely twenty-two! We're still so _young!_ Okay, so we're not really _that_ young. There are a lot of people in the world having kids at our age, or even younger. But still! I was baby-hungry then, for Merlin's sake! It shouldn't count!

_Too late now, pumpkin. Literally._

"Rose?" I hear Scorpius call from the other side of the door. "You all right?" Still shaking, I move to the door, pulling it open. He frowns when he sees me. "Rose, you're white as a ghost! What's the matter?"

I stare up at him, by breath coming in short spurts. Swallowing hard, I force myself to say the words. "I... I think I'm pregnant."

* * *

><p>Scorpius and I sit silently in the maternity ward of St. Mungo's, waiting for the doctor to see us. We've already been waiting for an hour, because apparently, there are lots of new mothers-to-be wanting to get checked. I wonder if any of them are as stupid as me, having unprotected sex, in or out of wedlock, because of a silly little bout of baby-hunger. Absolutely ridiculous.<p>

"This is ridiculous," I blurt out.

"They'll help us when they can," he says calmly. "They have to do their jobs."

"No, not that, _me_. Going and getting myself pregnant. _Stupid!_"

Scorpius turns his head, looking at me. "I thought you wanted this."

"I know, all right?" I snap, then I sigh, instantly regretting it. "I'm sorry. I did want this. I _do_ want this. Just... not now."

He nods. "I understand. I mean, we are still pretty young."

I lick my lips, staring ahead. "That won't matter if I _am_."

Scorpius exhales slowly, rubbing his eyes. I take deliberately slow breaths (I passed out from hyperventilation once already), trying not to think too hard about the possibility. But I keep getting visions of me, during and after pregnancy. Hunched over a toilet, puking my guts out. Swelling up like a balloon. Having twins, just like Victoire, or maybe even _triplets_. Trying to take care of those twins or triplets and failing miserably. Losing a child. Having a miscarriage. Scorpius leaving me because he's not ready. That's what scares me most of all.

"It'll be all right," Scorpius attempts to console me, likely having felt my dread.

"You don't know that," I whisper, a tear trickling down my cheek.

He sighs, and then I feel his fingers gently turning my head toward him. I meet his eyes, and he cups my face in both hands, one thumb reaching out to catch the stray tear.

"I _do_ know that," he says quietly. "Because no matter what happens, we're in this together. I love you, and I'm going to stand by you, as long as you'll let me."

I give him a watery smile, pulling him in for a tender kiss.

"Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy?"

We pull apart, turning to see the Healer standing in his white robes. "That's us," Scorpius provides.

"I'm Healer Jones. Follow me, please," he smiles, then turns down a hallway.

I chance a glance at Scorpius, and he meets my gaze. With an encouraging smile, he stands, and helps me to my feet as well, then we follow Healer Jones into a typical check-up room. Well, almost typical. This one has a plastic model of a pregnant woman and her fetus. _Ick_.

"That's a little on the repulsive side," Scorpius mutters, looking at the model.

"Tell me about it."

"Well, now," Healer Jones begins, oblivious to our disgust. "Mrs. Malfoy, if you'll just sit here, and we can have a little chat."

A _chat?_ He wants to have a _chat?_ To hell with that, I just want to know! But I do as he says, sitting on edge of the elevated bed, trying not to cry or scream or kick this idiot in white. He takes a seat in his plush, wheeled chair, and Scorpius sit in one of the less-than-comfortable barely-chairs against the wall.

"So, when did you first start having symptoms?"

I frown. "Er... well, I don't know that I've been having _symptoms_, really... I just checked my schedule this morning, and realized that I was late."

"And there have been no other symptoms? Nausea? Breast tenderness?" (My face turns beet red at this.) "Cravings? Heightened sense of smell?" I shake my head, and he lifts an eyebrow. "Heightened libido?"

My blush deepens. "No more than usual."

"I see."

Scorpius coughs, but I'm pretty sure it was just to hide a laugh.

"Well, Mrs. Malfoy, there's a chance you might not be pregnant after all." My heart rises. "But we'll go through the procedure, just to make sure. You may just be one of the lucky few who doesn't have any symptoms."

And then it sinks back down. "Oh... lucky me."

"Let me get the potion..." he says, standing up, and rummaging through one of the cabinets. He produces a clear liquid that almost looks like water, except it's way too thick, and I think a little glittery. He pours a small amount into a paper cup, then hands the cup to me. "Drink this in sips, and wait about five minutes, then we can check. In the meantime, I have one other patients to attend to."

He sweeps out of the room, shutting the door behind him. After a few seconds, I grumble, "Completely ridiculous."

Scorpius leans forward, taking my hand. "Everything will be all right."

Still grumbling, I press the rim of the cup to my lips, and take a tiny sip. The potion is lukewarm, roughly the consistency of maple syrup, and tastes almost like Muggle cough medicine. I grimace, forcing myself to swallow. "Ack," I groan, suppressing a shudder. "That's disgusting."

"Most medical potions are," Scorpius reasons.

"Yeah, but still! _Ugh!_"

"Take another sip," he instructs, and I reluctantly obey, plugging my nose this time. It helps while I'm actually drinking it, but I can still taste it on my tongue after. "He said you might not be pregnant," Scorpius reminds me. "You don't have symptoms."

"He also said I might be one of the 'lucky few,'" I say with distaste, and take another sip of the revolting potion.

"Well, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

I exhale sharply. "Yeah. Guess so."

We sit in silence for the next few minutes. I finish the potion off, throwing the cup in a nearby trash can, then fold my arms, staring into space. My nervous apprehension is doubled, as I can feel it emanating from Scorpius, too, and I heave a sigh. His eyes flicker toward me, then return to the photograph on the Healer's desk that he's been staring at—something scenic, I think in Ireland. Or Scotland. Bah, who cares?

Healer Jones returns then, and I sit up straight. He's scribbling on a clipboard as he walks in, and he quickly finishes whatever he's writing and sets in on the desk. "All right," he says with a smile, looking at me. "Let's find out what's in there, shall we?"

I nearly scoff at his choice of words. "Yes, let's," I drawl sarcastically.

"Lie down, please, Mrs. Malfoy."

My teeth dig into my bottom lip as my anxiety threatens to overwhelm me. Slowly, I lean back, until I'm in a horizontal position. The Healer pulls out his wand, tossing another smile at me, then he mutters an incantation. Suddenly, a faint, white glow radiates from my lower stomach, before flickering, and then vanishing altogether. He nods.

"I thought so. Mrs. Malfoy, you are _not_ pregnant."

I can't contain a sigh of relief. "Thank you," I say, partly to him, and partly to Merlin, or God, or whatever deity is out there, for being so kind and merciful to me.

He looks confused, but doesn't comment on my sudden change in mood. "Er, yes. Thank you for coming in. Have a wonderful day."

As Scorpius and I walk through the hospital, I do a little dance. "Yes, yes, _yes!_"

"Oh, Rose," he shakes his head.

"I'm not pregnant! No babies yet! _YES!_"

"You're making a scene."

"I don't care! I'm not going to have a baby! Oh, praise Merlin!" He sighs, and that's when I'm finally made aware of what _he's_ feeling. A mild irritation, and a very keen disappointment. I frown at him. "Wait... why are you so upset?"

He doesn't look at me. "I'm not."

Then it hits me. I should have guessed as much. My excitement fades as it dons on me. "You were hoping I _was_ pregnant. You wanted to have a baby." He remains silent, and I sigh, taking his hand. "I'm sorry, Scorp."

"No you're not."

"I'm sorry that you're upset."

"But not that you're not pregnant."

"We're too young! We haven't even been married a year! It's way too soon to start having children! That doesn't mean I don't want any at all!"

He nods. "Yeah, I know."

But the disappointment is still there. I stop walking, and I take his shoulders, turning him so that he's looking at me. "Scorpius," I say firmly, looking directly into his eyes. "I would love nothing more than to be the mother of your children. Just not _now_. In the future—maybe even the _near_ future—we can talk about it. But not now, not yet."

I can feel his gradual acceptance, and he smiles faintly, giving another nod. "Okay," he says quietly. "Not yet."

"But someday, definitely," I assure him, holding his hand again.

"Definitely," he repeats.

The rest of Scorpius' birthday is infinitely more light-hearted. We eat lunch and drink tea with his parents, and then we all go to the Burrow for a smallish party. It's not as rowdy and excessive as most Weasley parties, which is what I was hoping for. No alcohol, just butterbeer (Scorpius' favorite drink), and a nice dinner before moving into the living room to talk and watch him open gifts.

He smiles and thanks everyone, and even kisses Gran on the cheek, causing her to blush and babble about checking on the cake. As she bustles into the kitchen, he turns to me, whispering, "I didn't see a gift from you in there."

"My gift comes later," I wink.

"I can't wait," he smirks.

A few moments later, Gran comes back in, holding a massive cake, decorated with multicolored icing and wizard candles, which are more like sparklers. Gran smiles at Scorpius, counts to three, and we all begin to sing.

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you..."

As I sing, I look at Scorpius, but then I see movement in the corner of my eye. My smile fades as I see Draco put his heart to his chest, his face going red, then white.

"Draco?" I ask, and the singing dies out. He groans, then collapses. I shoot to my feet, racing over to him. "Somebody call St. Mungo's!"

_Oh, Merlin... please don't let him..._

* * *

><p>AN: Long, long chapter, and then a cliffie! I'm sorry about that. Okay, no I'm really not, because sometimes you need a good cliffie to keep the story interesting. Despite the ending, I hope you liked the chapter! :D


	16. Waiting

"In time of test, family is best."

–Burmese Proverb

* * *

><p><em>Last chapter:<em>

As we sing, I look at Scorpius, but then I see movement in the corner of my eye. My smile fades as I see Draco put his heart to his chest, his face going red, then white.

"Draco?" I ask, and the singing dies out. He groans, then collapses. I shoot to my feet, racing over to him. "Somebody call St. Mungo's!"

_Oh, Merlin... please don't let him..._

* * *

><p>Second. Bloody. Time. In. One. Bloody. <em>Day!<em>

The crew at St. Mungo's looks a little perplexed at the large group of people sitting in the main waiting room. Nearly everyone at the party has come along to support the Malfoy family. Only Teddy and Victoire have gone home, as they're trying to get the twins on a regular schedule. The rest of the Weasley clan sits, anxious, on edge, and (surprisingly) silent. _Waiting_.

Scorpius is hunched over, head in his hands, while I trace meaningless patterns on his back in an attempt to soothe him. His breathing is ragged and uneven, and I can feel his mounting fear mingling with my own. Only Astoria seems remotely calm and composed, which puzzles me. If it were me, and Scorpius had collapsed—I choke back a sob at the thought—I would be a basket case. But there she sits, hands in her lap, back straight, her face completely devoid of expression.

I turn as I see someone in white walking toward us, but I'm disappointed, and a bit embarrassed, to see it's Healer Jones. He frowns down at me. "Er, Mrs. Malfoy," he greets. "I'm sorry, did we have another appointment?"

"No," I say shortly. Scorpius turns his head, peeking through his fingers to see who's speaking, before returning to his previous position.

"Then I'm a bit confused. I thought I was very clear on your diagnosis."

"I—"

"What diagnosis, Rose?" Mum chimes in, looking worried. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mum."

"Mrs. Malfoy came in for a pregnancy test this morning."

"_You're pregnant?_" Dad shouts.

All heads turn to him, then to me. And suddenly, my huge family comes rushing over to me, chattering with excitement. Gran sobs, putting her arms around my neck in an awkward hug. "Oh, Rose I'm so happy for you! I knew you wouldn't wait too long to have children! Another great-grandbaby! I'm just so happy!"

"Didn't think you wanted it, but good for you," Albus smirks.

"You're gonna name him James, right?" James teases me.

"You prat, what makes you think it's going to be a boy?" Lily rolls her eyes.

"Trust me, it's a boy."

"I'M NOT PREGNANT!" I yell. "The test came back negative!"

Healer Jones nods. "It's true."

Gran's face falls. "Oh. Well, you'll just have to try again!"

"We're not ready for children, Gran," I say tiredly. "We're going to wait a while, so if you please, I'd appreciate it if you'd just _drop this_."

"But I don't understand," she frowns. "If you're not ready for children, then why were you trying for one in the first place?"

"Mum, please," Dad groans. "This is not the time or place for this."

She sighs. "Yes, you're right."

Everyone returns to their seats, and the silence resumes. I notice that Astoria is looking at me, and I frown. Why is she looking at me like that?

"Do you want children?" she asks bluntly.

"Of course I do, but... we're still young."

"Age is irrelevant. If you're ready, you're ready. A number cannot determine the time you are meant to be a parent."

I bite my lip, considering that. "I suppose not... but I don't feel ready."

"What about my son? Is _he_ ready?"

"Mum!" Scorpius lifts his head to glare at her, speaking for the first time since we left the Burrow.

"Are you ready, Scorpius? I see no reason why you should have to wait, simply because she thinks it's too soon. If you're ready, why wait?"

"Mum, we are not going to have this conversation right now," he hisses. "In fact, I don't think we need to have this conversation at all! We will have kids when we are ready to have kids, _both_ of us. And that's final."

Just then, as if sent from the heavens, a Healer—a different one this time, thank Merlin—arrives just in time, and Scorpius and I stand, along with Astoria.

"Are you the family of Draco Malfoy?"

"I am his wife," Astoria announces.

"His son," Scorpius says, then he gestures to me, "and my wife."

He nods. "Good come with me, please."

We follow the Healer down the hallway a bit, and I can hear the disgruntled protests of my family, particularly Gran ("I don't understand why we can't hear what's going on! We're family just as much as they are!"). Eventually, he stops, and turns to us.

"He's going to be fine," he says, and Scorpius and I sigh in unison, leaning into each other. "It's just a bit of angina, which is nothing too major, as long as he eats right and exercises, and keeps his stress levels relatively low. We'd like to keep him here overnight, just to be safe."

"Isn't there something you can do to stop it?" Scorpius asks, his voice tinged with panic. "A potion, a spell, anything?"

"There are plenty of things we can do to help lessen the symptoms, but nothing to stop them altogether. That will come with time, and the life changes I've prescribed. It'll be your responsibility to make sure that he implements them."

Astoria nods. "Thank you very much, Healer Roberts."

_Oh. I didn't know that was his name. Did he introduce himself? I guess that's not important._

"May we see him?"

"Yes, but I think it should just be you, his immediate family. We don't want to rile him up." He gives a small nod, then leads the way. We followed in silence, until he stopped just outside a door. "He's in here. He'll likely be a bit groggy."

"Thank you," Astoria says again, then she steps into the room. I glance at Scorpius, whose anxiety is as clear in his eyes as it is through the connection. I give him my best attempt at an encouraging smile, then we, too, enter the room.

It's tiny; the walls are an ugly, pale grey, with cracks and craters all over, and a tiny window. You'd think, being a _magical_ hospital, they could manage to fix the place up a bit. Draco's bed is near the window, and his face is almost the same shade as the walls. It's a bit eerie. He blinks dazedly, and then his eyes land on Astoria. A faint smile curls his lips, and he lifts a hand. For the first time since our arrival, Astoria shows real _emotion_. She sobs quietly, and crosses over to Draco's bedside in two long strides, grasping his hand in both of hers. As tears flow down her cheeks, she brings his fingers to her lips, kissing them tenderly. He slowly pulls her closer, lifting his other hand to wipe away her tears. And as I watch the scene unfold, I cry tears of my own.

"Draco," she whimpers, "don't ever to that to me again."

He chuckles softly. "I'll try my best." His eyes wander, and he spots Scorpius and me. "I suppose I gave you quite a scare."

Scorpius laughs, then lets go of my hand so he can hug his father. I remain standing by the door, until Draco holds out his hand to me. Uncertain, I walk slowly toward the bed, and take the offered hand. He squeezes mine tightly, saying in that small gesture what I know words cannot: I'm part of their family. I belong here.

And for once... I really feel like I do.

"You should all get home," he says. "You need rest."

"Oh, dear, we're fine," Astoria protests. "It's _you_ who needs rest."

"I'll get rest, whether I like it or not," he grumbles. "I'm stuck here for the night, and they're bound to give me some kind of potion that puts me to sleep."

"Good thing, too," Scorpius smirks. "Knowing you, you might stay awake all night simply to spite them."

Draco laughs, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm far too exhausted for spite."

"We really should let him sleep," I say to Scorpius.

He nods. "We'll come by tomorrow when they discharge you, Dad."

"Something to look forward to."

"I'll stay a while longer," Astoria says, looking at her husband.

Scorpius and I nod, then we walk down the hall to the apparition point. He pulls me in close, and smiles down at me when we land in our bedroom.

"He's going to be fine," he says.

I smile, nodding. "He's going to be fine."

Sighing again, he wraps is arms around me in a tight hug. I squeeze him back, my own giddy relief matching his.

"Well, this is one birthday I wouldn't care to repeat."

"I'm sorry," I say wistfully.

He leans back, and I see his smile turn playful. "There is one thing that could make it better, though. I seem to remember you promising me a birthday present."

Grinning, I step back a bit. "Go ahead," I purr. "Unwrap your present."

He does so without hesitation.

* * *

><p>AN: A short one to follow the last, scarily long one. Really, I think this one's just kind of a filler chapter, just so that you know what's going on with Draco. :) Review!


	17. Compromise?

"Learn the wisdom of compromise, for it is better to bend a little than to break."

–Nikhil Saluja

* * *

><p>We arrive at the hospital at about ten in the morning to take Draco home, and he's already dressed and waving off the nurses' inquiries when we get there. <em>Yep, he's definitely going to be just fine<em>, I think wryly, and as Scorpius and I share a smirk, I know he's thinking the same thing.

The four of us eat a light, celebratory lunch—salmon with high-fiber rice, and lots of vegetables—before Draco heads upstairs for a nap. Not long after that, Scorpius announces that he has to go to work.

"They're still making you go in?" I frown. "Your father just got out of the hospital."

"Unfortunately, yes, and I also have to make up the hours I've missed, so I probably won't be home until nine or ten."

I sigh. "Nice knowing you."

"Way to stand by your man," he deadpans, then kisses my cheek. "I'll push for nine."

"Be safe," I say, pulling him in for a real kiss. He smiles and winks, then leaves the dining room, and a moment later, I hear a pop, signaling his disapparition. Sighing, I slowly let my eyes wander around the room. I stop, however, when I spot Astoria, still sitting opposite me, watching me. _Again_.

With another sigh, I blurt out, "You have a thing for staring at me, don't you?"

"Just because you are married to my son does not mean you have the right to treat me with disrespect. On the contrary, I demand _more_ respect from my family."

"Yes, ma'am," I counter icily.

Her eyes narrow for a moment, then her face relaxes. "Disrespectful though you may be, I would like to apologize for my behavior at the hospital yesterday. I was upset, very worried for my husband, and I'm afraid I took it out on you."

I shrug. "I'm a Weasley. I'm used to people lashing out when they don't mean to."

For a moment, it almost looks like she's going to smile, but then she speaks again in that serious tone. "I would also like to explain my reason for questioning you about your desire for a family."

"Oh?"

She pauses for a moment. "I was afraid Draco might die. Not an irrational fear, as this is the first time he's shown any evidence of heart trouble, and I hadn't a clue what was happening. Even before we arranged your marriage to Scorpius, Draco has wanted very much to see the Malfoy line continue. During the war, he wasn't certain that he would survive, much less find a wife and have children of his own. Knowing that he _has_ survived, that he _does_ have a family, he'd like to see it grow, to see it continue. He'd never tell you directly, as he is far too polite, but it's how he feels."

"I see," I half-whisper.

She watches me for another moment, then speaks again. "I know I can't tell you what to do, and I can't force you or Scorpius into anything. But I can ask you to please think of Draco. With this recent... development, I'm not certain how he will live. Maybe twenty years, maybe two years, maybe _two months_. I can't know."

Her voice breaks with emotion, and I feel a rush of sympathy for her. It's obvious that she loves Draco very much, as much as I love Scorpius. To not know how much time you have left with your spouse... it's unbearable to even think it. And it was a reality for her.

She wipes her eyes, then stands. "I apologize. This is inappropriate."

_So it's not just the _men_ in the family_. I quickly wave a hand in dismissal. "I know I'm not your favorite person, Astoria," I say hesitantly, "but... you _are_ my mother-in-law. We're family. And families support each other, no matter what." I give her a smile. "If you need me, I'm always here."

"Well," she mumbles, clearly unsure of how to react. "Thank you."

Without another word, she leaves the room. I expel a long breath, then I, too, rise from my chair. Instead of going upstairs, though, I saunter out the back, onto the large veranda just outside the dining room. Thanks to the heating charms, I can sit on one of the lawn chairs and watch the snow fall, without getting cold. And I do just that, slowly lowering myself onto one of the cushiony lounge chairs, and staring out across the grounds.

My mind turns over the information Astoria has just given me. It makes sense; of course Draco would want to see his grandchildren. And considering his life might be dramatically shortened because of his new heart condition, I can see why Astoria would want to ensure her husband's dearest wish. In fact, I'm fairly sure I would have reacted similarly, were I in her shoes. Scorpius' happiness means everything to me, and I would do anything to make him happy.

But...

I want to be a mother. I want to grant Draco his one wish. I want to give Scorpius what he's been so hoping for. But I just don't feel ready for that step yet. I try, desperately, to think of some way I can prepare myself, but nothing comes to mind.

Then an idea hits me. I'm not certain it will make me ready to have a baby, but I do know it will help. Stepping further onto the veranda, I make sure I have plenty of space around me, before disapparating.

A moment later, I appear at my chosen destination: my parents' living room. Then, my mum comes into the room, having heard the telltale crack of apparition.

"Rose!" she smiles, rushing forward to hug me. "I'm so glad to see you! How is Draco? And Scorpius and Astoria? Is everything all right?"

"Yes, everything's fine. Draco's fine. It was just a bit of angina. He just needs to eat healthier, and he'll continue being fine."

"Oh, wonderful!" she sighs. "Your father and I have been so worried!"

"Don't include me in this!" I hear Dad shout from the kitchen.

Mum rolls her eyes. "Well, _I've_ been worried. I'm so glad to hear he's all right."

"Yes, we were all relieved."

"So, what brings you here? Where's Scorpius?"

"Scorpius is at work, unfortunately," I inform her, then I glance toward the doorway leading to the kitchen. In a much lower voice, I ask, "Mum... can I speak with you in private for a bit?"

Mum nods, and ushers me out the door. We each grab a coat on the way out—she, her new pea coat that Dad gave her for Christmas, and I get her old coat, torn and frayed, but still warm—and we walk down the street a ways, before she turns to me.

"What's this all about?" she asks.

"Well... it's partly about Draco, partly about Astoria, and partly about pregnancy."

She frowns. "But... I thought you _weren't_ pregnant."

"I'm not," I assure her. "I thought I might be yesterday, but I was just a little late in my period. In fact, it just came today," I add. "But that's not the point. The point is, I had... a chat with Astoria today. You know, she kind of pounced on me in the waiting room?" Mum nods, and I continue. "Well, she apologized for that, then she told me why."

"Why she harassed you and asked you personal questions about your life with your husband? Oh, this should be interesting," Mum deadpans.

"Apparently, Draco wants to see his grandchildren, and with his heart acting up all of a sudden, she's afraid he might not live long enough."

"I see..."

I heave a sigh. "And I understand that, and I respect that, but... oh, Mum, I just can't seem to make myself want a baby yet! It still seems too soon!"

"There's nothing wrong with that, dear," she insists. "If you're not ready, there's nothing Astoria or Draco or anyone can do about it. It's up to you and Scorpius, and the two of you need to decide this _together_." She pauses for a moment, then lowers her voice a bit, "To be honest, I know exactly how you feel. I was uncertain about having a baby for years. Your father was all for it, but I kept insisting that I wasn't ready, that I needed more time.

"In the end, though, you're either going to have to change your mind, or make a compromise. That's what we did," she adds. "A few years into our marriage, we sat down and talked about it. We agreed that if, in a certain amount of time, we hadn't already decided to just go for it, we would have our first child. That time ran out, and even though I was still unsure and afraid, I had made that promise to your father, and I wasn't about to back down." She smiles, and lifts her hand to my face. "And I'm so glad I didn't. Because of that compromise, I got you."

I smile tearfully in return. "Oh, Mum..."

Laughing softly, she pulls me into a hug. "Take your time, but talk openly about it with Scorpius. Make sure he knows how you feel. And maybe you ought to make your own little promise to each other. I would certainly recommend it.

"Thanks, Mum," I say gratefully. "This really helped."

"That's what I'm here for," she grins. "Now, how about a nice cup of hot chocolate?"

I spend the rest of the day with my parents (Hugo's back at Hogwarts), drinking cup after cup of hot chocolate, and reminiscing about the old days. More than once, we end up crying together, but mostly, the afternoon is filled with laughter and fun. At around eight, I decide I should probably get back to the Manor. Mum and Dad send me off with a hug and a kiss each, and a plate full of biscuits.

The house is silent when I get back, so I take careful, quiet steps up the stairs and into my room. I'm surprised to see Scorpius sitting on the bed when I open the door, looking rather unkempt.

"Scorpius!" I smile. "I thought you'd be working till nine or ten!"

"I got away early," he says with a smile, then frowns in confusion. "Where did you sneak off to?"

"My parents' house," I reply, then I hold up the plate of sweets. "They made me take these with me. Gran's famous recipe. Mum's a health nut, but she enjoys baking."

"Yum, biscuits," he grins, taking the plate from me and plopping onto the bed. We sit there for a long time, eating biscuits until we're full almost to bursting, then Scorpius calls Gabby to take them to the kitchen. As she disappears, Scorpius lets out a growl and grabs me by the waist, pulling me to him. I squeal, struggling (barely) to break free, but giving up (quickly) as his lips brush the side of my neck.

"Mmm," I hum my approval of his touch, and he smiles against my skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses. Then I remember my conversation with Mum, and suddenly feel anxious to talk to him. "Scorp?"

"Hmm?"

"As nice as that... _oh, hell_," I breathe, then I whimper as he sucks on a particularly tender spot just below my ear. "That's wonderful..."

He chuckles. "What were you saying?"

I struggle to think through the thick fog that has formed in my brain, which only increases as he continues kissing and nibbling on my neck. "I need... you... to stop," I pant, though my body is screaming for _more, more, MORE_.

"You sure about that?"

"Ohhhhhh..." I moan, putty in his hands. He lets his tongue glide across the column of my throat, and then he pulls my earlobe between his teeth. "Uhhh... Scorpius... I really do want to talk to you..."

Scorpius sighs, releasing me from his iron grip, and turns me to face him. His eyes twinkle with mirth, and his lips curl into my favorite smirk. "Go ahead."

"Erm... give me a moment." I close my eyes, taking deep breaths. Eventually, when my skin stops tingling and my mind clears, I'm able to remember what I wanted to talk to him about. I open my eyes again, to find him waiting, still wearing that smirk, and basking in internal triumph. I give him a quick, disparaging glare, then I dive right into the conversation.

"I went to my parents' house to talk to my mum, specifically about the almost-pregnancy," I tell him. "I asked her a few questions, and she told a few anecdotes about when she and my dad were considering starting a family."

"She didn't give the gory details, did she?" he jokes.

"Thank Merlin, _no_," I roll my eyes. "But she did tell me that, like me, she had a hard time feeling like she was ready."

His eyes narrow. "Where's this going, Rose?"

"I'm getting to that. She also said that she and my dad talked about it, and decided that they'd set a time limit. They'd wait a specific amount of time, and if they hadn't already had a baby or at least attempted to, they _would_. And that was what lead to me." I pause, taking a breath. "I think that's what we should do."

He shrugs. "Fine with me. How long?"

"That's where you come in. You tell me how long you're willing to wait, and I'll abide by it, period. So, tell me. What do you have in m—?"

"Our anniversary," he interrupts.

I swallow hard. "That's only three months away."

Scorpius smiles at me. "I think it's kind of perfect, don't you?"

"Well—"

"We could always say Valentine's day instead," he winks.

"Valentine's day won't be at the right time in my schedule," I say, grateful it won't be that soon.

"Will our anniversary be at the right time?"

I calculate the days, factoring in my last week-late period, and my stomach flips over with dread. And because of the damn connection, I know he already knows, so I can't even bother lying. "Er... it'll be a few days early, but... I guess we can say that we'll start _trying_ then."

"True," he agrees, then he eyes me carefully. "You're sure about this? We could try and compromise, pick a day somewhere in the middle."

I shake my head. "That won't work, I know myself too well. Once we throw in the word compromise, I'll try to compromise every compromise, until we're both irritated with each other, and we haven't actually agreed upon a blasted thing."

"Well, how long would you wait?"

"Three years."

He makes a face. "Why so far away?"

I shrug. "It seemed safe."

"Rose, think about this. Are you really willing to commit to this? I don't want to push you into anything, and then have you resent me for it."

"If I resent anyone for this, it's going to be me, since it was my idea."

"Technically, it was your mum's idea."

"Well, then I'll resent her."

"I don't want that, either," he half-laughs. "This isn't a matter of deciding what item to buy in the store. This is a _baby_. An actual child, our flesh and blood."

"Don't say _blood_."

"You get my point, though. We can't make this decision lightly."

"I know," I say, "and... I'm not. I want you to be happy, and if that means having a baby sooner than planned, then so be it. Besides, I already know I want kids. What's the difference if I have one in three months or three years?"

"About thirty-three months."

I roll my eyes. "Rhetorical question, Sparky."

"You didn't specify."

With another eye roll, I revert back to the previous subject. "I'm serious about this, Scorp. I want whatever you want."

"I want _you_ to be happy."

"I'll be happy if _you're_ happy."

He lets out a frustrated groan. "We're just too selfless, Rose."

"So be selfish and say what _you_ want."

After a moment, he sighs. "All right. Our first anniversary."

"Deal," I nod, feeling better about it by the second. "If you think about it... three months is around ninety days, and that seems a lot further away than when you just say 'three months.'"

"Nice logic," he laughs.

"Well, I am half of Hermione Granger's genes. It's hereditary."

He smiles at me, pressing a kiss to my lips. "I love you, d'you know that?"

"I always suspected," I tease, kissing him again.

* * *

><p>AN: What do you think? I couldn't totally eliminate the possibility of a pregnancy, now could I? It's just too much fun! But will they actually go through with it? Well, that's for me to know, and you to find out later on! :D Please review!


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